


Sympathy for the Devil

by bodaciouslyDauntless



Series: Sympathy for the Devil, and The Devil's Details [1]
Category: XCOM (Video Games) & Related Fandoms
Genre: (the soldiers and the Commander to an extent), AU where the Commander chooses Kidnapping instead of Murder, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-typical swearing, Chosen-Centric, Defection, Depictions of Abuse, Depression, Found Family, Gen, Original Characters - Freeform, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Redemption, Suicidal Thoughts and Situations, The Elders are the worst parents but what else is new, characters to be added as story updates, summary updated!, tags also to be added as story updates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-18 06:26:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 32
Words: 180,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14207097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bodaciouslyDauntless/pseuds/bodaciouslyDauntless
Summary: Most, when presented with ADVENT, would not hesitate to ring the death knell for them. The Elders fully expect this as XCOM draws closer to the Hunter's Stronghold. But when faced with a fate far different than what they ever could have imagined, how will the Chosen react in the face of it? Where will their future lead?





	1. Invasion

The Commander thumbed through some documents on the datapad. Coordinates, pictures, written notes... the Reapers may not be the type for paperwork, but on terms of scouting an area thoroughly, they were unmatched champions. There was hardly a piece of data missing that she required.

“As much as I’d like to brag that my Reapers pulled the work, I’ve gotta say, you had a hand in this too.”

Eliza looked up at the screen in the Resistance Communications room, smiling, tucking a lock of deep brown hair out of the way. Her pale blue eyes caught the light of the screen, revealing a dash or two of purple tint. “I’d still put a lot of the awards on you guys. My soldiers certainly did their best, but without you and your Reapers, we wouldn’t have had a chance to find his hideout in the first place.”

Her attention went back to the datapad. Everything put together a nice imagery of the Hunter’s Stronghold. Deep in the woods, no civilization for miles around... or ADVENT sites, for that matter. Total isolation. That could be a benefit. Then again, she wouldn’t pin the Hunter as being one for backup anyway. Still, it meant that once they flew in that airspace, they’d stick out like a sore thumb. No room for sneaking.

She straightened, just in time for Volk to start speaking again. “I’m sure you’re aware, Commander, but that thing probably got word of our scouts.” Volk shifted, rubbing at his chin and looking to the side. “We haven’t heard any evidence to that but knowing that Hunter, I’m sure it knows. Probably just biding time. If you don’t crash in the front door soon, you might lose the opportunity when boredom sets in.

The Commander did a mental check of her supplies. She already had a squad in mind for the mission—and that squad included a little bit of borrowed help from them. “Technically speaking, we could drop in right now. More than enough soldiers for a squad, and I’m sure Wukong would like a chance to give the Hunter a new piercing or two.”

That earned a smirk from Volk. Arsozu, or “Wukong,” was instrumental in many missions, and Eliza counted him as a true blessing from the Reapers. “You’d have a buddy for life, there.”

She chuckled, sending the data along and putting down the pad. “In this war, I’ll claim as many friends as I can get.”

As many friends as she could get... Eliza scanned over the walls. All three Resistance factions were on good terms with her, if not each other. Word of XCOM was spreading and Resistance havens were backing them up. So why was she feeling this melancholy? Her eyes flicked back down to the pad.

_The Hunter_. A somewhat blurred photo of him taking aim at something out of frame was included in the files. The Commander knew he was the enemy. It was impossible to know how many deaths that rifle he held knew, and how many more he knew personally. But yet, a few things lingered at the back of her mind. Remnants of her time in the network. _Queries_.

“Volk... you know what’s the most interesting thing to me?”

Volk didn’t respond. He had already caught her far-off look at the datapad and was now sitting at attention, waiting to see what she was going to say next. She took his silence as a nod to continue.

“When I was hooked up to the ADVENT Network, I was basically an info base. I’d apparently run simulations in the background, but at any time, I could get questions. Mostly tactical data for officers, but regularly, I’d get questions from the Chosen.”

“Something tells me I’m going to get a little concerned at where you’re going with this.”

Eliza’s mouth twitched, undecided between a smile or a frown. “The Warlock and Assassin asked their fair share of tactical questions and my subconscious answered the best it could. The Hunter, though? He’d always bounce interesting stuff off of me.” She gave a soft chuckle, crossing her arms. Her gaze hadn’t moved from the datapad. “He’d prod me with joke questions and I remember automatically snarking back, much to his delight. But he... he asked some fairly interesting ones as well.”

“Commander.” Volk’s tone was hard and she could see his face had set out of the corner of her eye. He didn’t sound like he was inviting any further discussion, and she took the hint, sighing.

“Right. Thank you for all of your help, Volk. We’ll take things from here.”

He nodded, and then the feed cut. Eliza cast her gaze to the door. How long Bradford had been standing there, she didn’t know. He was currently leaned up against one side of it, giving her a trained look. Behind it, though, she could see his concern.

“Commander O’Leary.”

She nodded at her proper designation. “Did you get the files?”

His shoulders went rigid, and he stood up properly. “‘Interesting questions?’”

Eliza gave the datapad one last look before sighing, turning the display off. “Going to cut me off at any point? This isn’t a topic I want to be constantly interrupted on.”

Bradford paused for a second as he was walking into the room, and then shook his head. “Just know I’m concerned for what you’ve said so far.”

Her eyes flicked to the dark screen for a moment before she crossed her arms again. Central’s concern was valid. Volk’s apprehension was valid. But yet... she wanted to give stock to her own feelings.

“Where was I... Right. Among the Hunter’s ‘usual’ questions came some interesting ones. Ones the others didn’t ever really ask. ‘Do you think you’ll ever be out of there?’ ‘Have you ever feared death?’ ‘Did you ever wish you could be born in someone else’s shoes?’”

Bradford opened his mouth, but then closed it into a tight line, respecting her implicit request. The Commander continued. “These kind of questions just started popping up more and more often for him. At some point, it seemed to move from morbid curiosity to... projecting? Seeking help?” She grimaces. “One of the final questions he asked me before you sprung me from that tube was ‘Have you ever wanted to die?’”

She turned to Bradford, gripping her arms with her hands. “I know he’s the enemy. I’m aware that he’s an aggressor. But, Bradford... you’d have to be there.” A few images flashed through her head and she suppressed a shudder. “The simulations, the failure states, the _memories_. If that’s what I went through _without_ becoming a Chosen like them, then imagine what’s going on behind closed doors.” She runs a hand through her hair. More and more white strands were popping up in it every day. “There’s gotta be a way other than just killing him. Don’t misunderstand me—if push comes to shove, he is the enemy, and I won’t hesitate to give the order to end him. Just...”

She trailed off, the hand still on her arm digging her fingertips into her flesh. Bradford shifted on the spot, then sighed, putting a heavy hand on her shoulder. “Eliza. I know you went through hell with the Elders, and I’m sure the process of becoming a Chosen isn’t any more glamorous. But you’re talking about possibly taking a Chosen in _alive_.”

She nods, sighing, letting a bit of tension go. “It’s... it’s true. I know we’ve stopped taking subjects in alive twenty years ago. I know we don’t negotiate. Do you think that I don’t know? Do you think that I don’t realize I’m advocating for sparing a mortal enemy of XCOM?”

Bradford returned her sigh, shaking his head. “I’m sure you’re fully aware. Just let me ask: how?”

Her gaze returned up to Bradford. “I don’t know. But I’m thinking. Standard knockouts should still apply, hell, you’ve seen the things that Clint can do. I’m definitely sending him on mission regardless, but maybe he could help.”

Bradford grunts, looking off to the side. “Vonnet _is_ our strongest psion... but even against a Chosen, I’m wary.” He looks back to the Commander, shoulders relaxing. “I suppose as long as you’re willing to off him if the need arises, we might be able to do something. There _are_ those old cells back in the lower deck, and we do still have a room open for planning.”

Eliza didn’t smile but her appreciation was palpable. “Thank you, John. I promise I’ll keep my mind on the mission. You’re just one of the few people I can clear this with without them damning me for being crazy.”

“Well...” He smiled. “You’re not out of the woods there, yet.”

She returned the grin. “Let’s go round up the soldiers.”

 

* * *

 

The time had arrived. Amidst rubble and ruin, five soldiers and a SPARK touched down in the first room of the Hunter’s Stronghold.

Sherry was the first to step forward, keeping her Plasma Rifle at head-level as she did a sweep of the room. Her brown hair was up in a bun, keeping it out of her face and preventing it from covering the burn scar on her face. Her GREMLIN was similarly primed, smoothly flying about, running a scan on the alien containers on racks that formed a loose grid in the area.

Roland was right behind her, though his sweep was much less smooth. He kept his pace steady even as he practically wheeled around, gauging the room for any signs of threat, Storm Gun held at the ready. The dress beret on his head still stayed firmly attached, keeping his short, white hair from falling out at the scalp. A repurposed Muton mask covered his face, and a scar on his left cheek trailed up from it and up his eye. At some more rubble falling down from the breaching charges, his hand jerked to one of the Fusion Axes on his back, but calmed a bit when he realized what it was.

SYNCLARE’s servos groaned as the robot rose to a more proper standing position, taking his place at the front of the squad. His sleek, almost alien chassis glinted in the light, the smooth grey material catching it from the new skylight. The heavily modded Elerium Phase-Cannon in his hands remained stationary as he lumbered forward, his BIT staying close.

Rosa was right behind him, already loosely using his big frame as cover, watching his back. A tactical helmet covered her head, obscuring her features. She kept her Beam Cannon hoisted like a trained professional, the weight meaning almost nothing to her in her WAR Suit.

Arsozu was quick to dash to the front, already at one of the open doors, peering in. His Reaper’s coat fanned out behind him, while his hood remained firmly in place. Despite his sudden movement, nobody in the squad stopped him. He kept his profile low and his peeks short, turning back to the squad and shaking his head. “No hostiles in the next room,” he stage-whispers, voice slightly muffled thanks to his mask.

Clint was the last to start moving, walking calmly with his Plasma Bolt at ease. His long, white hair was kept tucked in his alien-esque helmet, a few locks peeking out the back. Purple eyes scanned the room, the color matched by the psi-amp on his back, glowing with passive power. He raises a hand to his helmet.

“Avenger, this is Menace One-Five. We have landed safely and Wukong says the next room is free of hostiles. Everything’s quiet for now.”

“ _Solid copy._ ” The Commander’s voice came over comms as the Avenger got a feed of the area. “ _Approach the next room carefully, and keep to cover if you get near any doors._ ”

“Understood.” Clint put his hand back on his gun. “Squad, move out. Wukong, you’re on scout. SYN, you’re behind him _._ Fortuna, you’re behind _him_. Rascal, watch flanks and stay near the front. Cherry, you’re backline with me. Are we clear?”

He got various affirmations, and the squad settled into their positions as they moved to the next room. Sherry’s GREMLIN joined her as she waited for Clint to catch up, the two keeping back.

The Commander watched, pensive, as the squad advanced. Thanks to the support of the Reapers and a nearby Resistance haven, they were getting a clean feed of the scene. The next room seemed like a communications hub of sorts, with desks littered with displays and inputs arranged neatly, monitors on the walls of various venues. She caught a flash of one that seemed to be a shot from the Blacksite, dread starting to settle in her gut.

She dismissed the feelings, casting a glance over to Bradford. “Any input, Central?”

“None so far, Commander.” The two were back to professional faces, concentration set on the mission. “Your plans?”

“Sweep the area, look for trouble, expecting to find it. Sensors lit up when we flew in here so they’re expecting us. Had no plans for sneaking, anyway. There’s got to be some sort of power source for the Chosen to keep resurrecting, and chances are, that’s deep in the compound.”

Bradford cleared his throat. “Good to hear, Commander, but I was referring to your _other_ plans.”

A few staff members stifled chuckles, and Eliza let them simmer down before she spoke. “I’ve settled on psionic subduing. Clint has more than enough power to get him to at least panic, but the optimal goal would be to knock him out entirely.”

“That is quite a lofty ambition, Commander.” Tygan’s presence was announced by his comment, nearly making the Commander jump. That man could be a Reaper if he wanted to. “We’ve observed that even the non-psionically gifted Chosen are almost immune to mind-altering effects. Unless our operative plans on completely overloading the Hunter...”

Tygan lets the statement hang. Eliza hums, then gives a subtle smile. “I’m taking the suggestion onboard. Thank you, Tygan.” Before anyone could retort, she turned her attention back to the screen. “Wukong, status.”

Arsozu paused as he was about to open a door. He continued the action, peering beyond. The room beyond was bathed in a menacing red light, and Arsozu made note of an almost-fresh blood smear on the floor that angled away from some sort of contraption. It seemed to be the stronghold’s prison area. Standing in the middle... “I’ve got eyes on two Stun Lancers, an Officer, and a Shieldbearer, and that’s just from this angle. They look alert, but of course, they don’t know _I’m_ here.”

“Roger.” Clint answered for the Commander, voice lowered. “SYN, I want you to activate Overdrive and plow through that wall. Fortuna, follow him. Try to take down the Shieldbearer first. Rascal, follow-up. Cherry and I will pick off stragglers.”

“ _Actually, from your position..._ ” The Commander hums. “ _Crazo, I want you to move forward about ten feet, to Wukong’s right. They’re standing close enough together... drop a Void Rift into their midst. Then proceed with your plan._ ”

Clint grins, moving up. “The Commander is ever insightful! One pocket in reality, coming up.”

“ _I think I see some high ground in there as well. Wukong, slip in, and take it. Pick off a straggler if need be._ ”

“Roger roger.” Arsozu grinned to himself as he slunk in the room, keeping to sightlines. “Not like these guys could be any more blind if they had buckets on their heads.” He scaled a ladder, pausing at the top. “Oh, wait...”

“Cut the chatter or we won’t hear a thing!” Roland scuttled forward, scowling a bit. “If something goes wrong I want to be able to know it happened.”

That made the Officer’s head turn in the next room to the door, readying their gun. Arsozu leveled his rifle. “I blab because I can afford it—you better make the most of your time, because you’re about flat broke, boys!”

Clint didn’t spare another word, holstering his weapon and bringing his psi-amp into his left hand. His right glowed a rich purple, siphoning energy from the amp, suffusing his whole body with light. At the point where he was starting to become blinding, he hurled it into the next room, a bright spark tracing a trail of energy that went right into the pod’s midst. It hit the end of the tracer, and with a ghastly sound, a purple mass of swirling energy opened in the midst of the enemy, buffeting them with pure psionic power.

“I think I’ve got one.” Clint sing-songed, and clenched his fist. The rift closed and the tracer whipped out at the Officer, causing him to spasm from the sudden infiltration. It hung limp for a moment before straightening, taking on Clint’s confident posture. “Go for it!”

At that moment, SYN burst through the wall between the two doors. He stopped in front of the enemy, rubble strewn around him and with light blue energy coursing across his frame. “I apologize in advance for your untimely deaths,” he quipped, before smoothly taking aim at the Shieldbearer and opening fire.

He gets a clean hit and downs the soldier. The two Stun Lancers exchange a look before bolting in different directions, one of them getting gunned down by Rosa in a hail of plasma.

Roland bursts forth from the hole in the wall, doing a slide around the corner, keeping a frightening pace with the Lancer, axe in hand. With a shout, the blade comes down on the soldier’s back, catching it and bringing forth a burst of orange ichor as the enemy crumples to the floor.

“Well,” Clint says, his voice coming from the Officer. “My whole squad appears to have died. That’s brutal.”

“ _Crazo, don’t mock the dead._ ” The Commander sighs. “ _Or the mind-controlled, for that matter._ ”

“ _I don’t know, I suppose he has a point._ ”

Most of the squad jumped at the sound of the Hunter’s voice on comms, nervously scanning the room. “ _Oh, don’t be babies, I’ve known you guys were here ever since those Reapers showed up at the ends of my yard. You really need to get yourself some better stealth operatives, Commander._ ”

Bradford opens his mouth to speak but the Commander holds up a hand, smirking. “Look, we were playing baseball in the next town over and a Berserker hit the ball and we think it sailed through one of your windows, can we just get it back?”

“ _Mmm... here’s the thing. That was a_ closed _window, mind you, and now there’s a draft. Sorry to say, but you racked up some property damage. I think I’ll take the ball, along with a soldier or two._ ” The Hunter pauses. “ _And look at that, you’ve spilled blood in the hall. You’re awfully messy baseball players, and it’s not my fault you let a Berserker try to be Babe Ruth._ ”

“Well, can’t say I didn’t try.” The Commander drops her hand. “No chance we can just be friends and play together nicely?”

The Hunter chuckles. “ _Sorry, Commander. I’m more of a hockey fan._ ”

“Plan B, then.” She switches the comms, limiting herself to Clint’s channel only. “Crazo, I’m going to be directing you personally from now on. Don’t think he can hear me on here. Keep the squad moving in formation, but be cautious. That gunfire probably echoed through the whole facility.”

“Understood. People, keep moving!”

“ _You know,_ ” starts the Hunter, “ _I wouldn’t peg XCOM as the type to go storming bases. Maybe mess up some shrubbery here, nick some office pens there... coming here’s awfully, I don’t know_ , suicidal.”

Eliza switched back over to main comms. “Well, what better way to mess with the Elders than to take out a Chosen? Don’t worry, your pens are still under consideration.”

The Hunter’s laughter fills the comms. “ _You’ve got the wrong alien, Commander. If you want to actually make them despair, go for either of the others. They’d practically thank you for killing me. I’d almost let you go so you_ could _do that, if you didn’t threaten my pens._ ”

“Someone around here keeps hiding ours, just let us borrow yours for a bit.” At this point, one or two of the staff were trying to suppress laughter while Bradford sighs, Tygan trying and failing to stifle a smile, himself. “And hey, we had nothing else to do tonight.”

“ _Well, fair point. Idle hands are the devil’s workshop, and everything. I’ll give you a hint, you’re looking for a room._ ”

“I appreciate your thorough input in assisting us with finding your location.” Back on the ground, SYN withdrew his gauntlet from the wreck of a MEC, a few blackened marks on his chassis but otherwise unharmed. “We will be en-route to your position shortly. Thank you for your compliance.”

“ _Ohoho, even the robot’s getting lippy! Rubbing off on the bots, Commander?_ ”

“Not a matter of ‘rubbing off,’” Rosa interjects, a spray of plasma destroying an ADVENT Priest’s cover, “Trust me, he’s always been like that.”

“He’s awfully fun, though!” Arsozu’s ensuing shot gets lost in the commotion of the battle, allowing him to remain undetected even as it pierces the Priest, giving it no chance to Sustain. “And _you_ , my dear Hunter, I’m gonna enjoy taking it right to ya!”

“ _Oh, really? Any Reaper worth half their salt **would watch their six.**_ ”

Arsozu whipped around but by that point, it was too late to do anything about the Berserker fist sailing towards him. He crumpled around it as he was thrown from his position and into a nearby wall, hitting it and slumping, unresponsive. The Berserker’s triumphant roar was cut short by Clint burying a bolt into its stomach, doubling it over in time for Sherry to get a clean shot off of its head.

“God damn it, Wukong!” Roland fired another round into the Berserker for good measure before reloading, making sure the coast was clear before running over to him. Blood was seeping from behind his mask and his armor was bent in at the front. “We’re gonna need an evac—he’s unconscious and I don’t think he’s getting up anytime soon.”

SYN advanced forward, his BIT whirring into the room ahead. It flew back in sight, chirping. “My BIT reports an empty room ahead of interest. It appears to be a portal location housing a transporter.”

“ _Damn. Not my front door. You’ve found it._ ” The Hunter deadpanned. “ _Well, I’m a lovely, sporting fellow. You’ve basically killed all of the guards there and I don’t enjoy hunting nearly dead prey. Take your wannabe home—I’m gonna enjoy killin’ the rest of you._ ”

Bradford turned to the Commander. “You gonna trust that?”

Eliza stares at the screen. Her face was unreadable. Losing their special operative just before fighting the Hunter was a serious blow, to say the least. Had she been actually able to give direct orders instead of tiptoeing around giving the Hunter info on what she was doing, maybe she could have avoided it. As it stood, she had few options. “Might as well. He pulls a fast one, he forces my hand. Not about to make Wukong march into his inner sanctum like that, grudges be damned. Crazo, get him out of there. Firebrand, prepare an evac.”

“ _Got it, Commander. Firebrand, flying in._ ”

“ _Understood, Commander. I’ll have Rascal cart him over._ ”

She leaned back a bit, watching Roland gingerly hoist up Arsozu and start walking with him. The Hunter’s true stronghold was just within their reach. Despite her calm appearance, her heart was pounding, and that dread she shook of earlier was returning in force, settling like a stone in her gut.

The Commander leaned back in, tuning to Clint’s headset and speaking low. “Clint.”

“ _... Yes, Commander?_ ”

“You are only to respond ‘understood’ to what I am about to tell you. Is that clear?”

She watches as Clint looks around at the other members of his squad. His voice drops a bit as he speaks, more reserved. “ _I understand. What is it, Commander?_ ”

Commander O’Leary sucked in a breath. “You have a special mission. It’s within my interests to bring the Hunter back alive, but he needs to be unconscious to do so. You, right now, are our best way of achieving that. If we can get him cornered and shut down whatever means he has of resurrecting, I want you to employ everything you have in your power to disable him. Stun him, mind control him, _completely overload him_ and knock him out if necessary. Just make sure he’s in a state where we can safely move him. But, all else fails, if the squad is in danger due to this, you are to drop this order and kill him. Do you read me, Clint?”

It was a while before Clint responded, even after the Commander finished talking. He nodded subtly. “ _Understood, Commander._ ”

She switches outgoing comms out, letting herself sigh. Bradford moves in a bit closer, hand on her shoulder. “Eliza...”

“I know the mission, John.” Their voices were low enough that only they could hear them, drowned out by the ambient noises of the ship or distance. “You heard me, right? I just want a chance to not completely destroy something the Elders have corrupted without the chance to save it.”

Bradford gave her shoulder a squeeze, looking to the screen. “... as your XO, it’s my job to be concerned. I don’t think you’ll ever hear the end of it from me, but I just want to make sure that you think you’re making the right choice. And, hell, who knows...” He sighs, giving her a good-natured smile. “You might just make this work. If anybody could do it, it’d be you.”

She returns the smile, patting his hand. “Thank you, John. Nice to know I’ve got you, in the end.”

They let the moment hold for a bit before before breaking it off, both Central and the Commander returning to their practiced, professional personas. The Commander switched outgoing comms back on, tuning to a channel where she knew the Hunter could hear her. “Alright, Mordenna. We’re knocking down your front door shortly and taking our ball back by force.”

“ _Ooh, getting familiar, are we, **Eliza**?_ ” At that, Bradford bristles, but the Commander remains unfazed. “ _Well, I invite you to try. Don’t knock over the hockey sticks on your way in._ ”

“Just for that, I will.”

“ _Damn. Whatever shall I do._ ”


	2. Risks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fight with the Hunter begins, and ends.

The force of the dimensional shift put a few of the squad into a stumble as they landed at their new destination, with SYN and Clint being the only ones who retained their balance. Clint made quick work of surveying the area as the others regained their balance.

Where they were didn’t seem to be a place on Earth. Construction was sleek, gilded, looking of alien origin. Torches burned with purple flames, and chandelier-like decorations hung high in the air with no support. There was no visible ceiling, and an abyss consumed anything outside of the area they were in, with massive pillars being the only distinguishing traits as far as the eye could see. Clint made note of the high ground at the four corners of the platform, including in the middle of the area as well.

He put his hand up to his helmet. “Commander, do you read? We’ve arrived at what I can only describe as the Hunter’s inner sanctum.”

Static greeted him in response. Worry grew. “Commander, can you hear us?”

“ _... connection ... different area ... _ ” The Commander’s voice came through in bursts, muddled and overpowered by static.

“Oh, the poor Commander.” The squad snapped to the far end of the area. At the end was a raised platform, stairs leading up to it. Above it, levitating and cloaked in purple energy, was a tall, rectangular, smooth slab. In front of it stood the Hunter, arms crossed, looking amused as he sizes up the squad. “This is her team? She might be in worse shape than I thought.”

Clint scoffed. “We’re more than well-enough equipped to take you down!”

The Hunter laughed. “Quite the social call you’re here for! I mean, I’ll applaud you, you guys have made it this far.” He jerked a thumb back at the slab. “You’re seeing my sarcophagus. Take it in—no other human has ever laid eyes on it. Nobody was ever supposed to learn about our little ‘trick.’ Suppose you guys are full of surprises.” He levelled a deadly look at them. “Soon to be full of holes.”

SYN leveled his weapon. “Thank you for your compliance. We apologize in advance for any undue stress we may cause you.”

“Hold on, hold on.” The Hunter held up his hands. “I can hear your Commander desperately trying to get a signal in here. Give me a second.” He closed his eyes, and suddenly the Commander’s voice came in crystal clear on the comms.

“ _ Menace One-Five, do you read me? We’re getting... a very high quality video feed. How did you...? _ ”

“You can thank me for that, Commander.” The Hunter’s eyes opened, looking sharply at the squad. “Technically you’re on the Network right now, which I’m sure is going to make  _ someone _ angry. But hey.” He shrugs, hands out. “I figure I’m about to kill all of you anyway, so surely I’ll be forgiven.”

“ _ Thank you,  _ **_dear_ ** _ , you’re always so hospitable. _ ”

The Hunter chuckles, his right hand falling to his side. “You’re welcome, darling. I’d say I aim to please, but...” He tilts his head forward at the squad, the act suddenly and easily giving him a threatening air. “That’d be a lie.”

He straightens out his left arm in a split second, and it barely budges as he fires out a grappling hook, the claw burying in the wall of the raised corner. He flies as it retracts, smoothly and easily vaulting over the railing as he comes into contact with it, crouching in the low cover, taking his Darklance off of his back and looking down the sight, right at Sherry. “Might as well shoot the medic first. Can’t have you saving the others.”

“ _ Move! _ ” Clint swept out his arm, and everyone scrabbled for cover, Sherry taking her place behind a column of the platform in the middle.

“Oh, you’re no fun.” The Hunter scowled, re-adjusting his aim, focusing SYN in his scope. “Well, easy target it is.”

SYN’s head locked onto the Hunter. “You appear to be trying to forcefully deactivate me. I’m sorry, Ref-Il Mordenna, but I cannot let you do that.” He shuddered as his frame glowed up blue.

“Hah! I might let you live for that one, tin can.” He aimed up a shot at SYN’s chassis, spotting Rosa right behind him. “Hm, this thing  _ should _ be high-caliber enough to get a penetration shot. This’ll be—”

What he wasn’t expecting was SYN to launch himself into a full-on sprint, Rosa keeping pace with him right until she ducked behind cover right in front of the Hunter’s perch. SYN kept running, forcing him to trade his rifle for his pistol and crack off a shot. The specialized ammunition only grazed the side of SYN’s armor but even a glancing shot was enough to cleanly shred off the bit it did hit.

SYN’s rockets activated and he slammed down behind the Hunter, using his momentum to throw an Overdrive-strengthened punch, undoubtedly taking a cue or two from a Berserker. “I advise you to  _ watch your six. _ ”

It connects fully with him as he’s turning around, picking him up by his chest and throwing him off of his feet, flying off of his perch and flat on his back on the ground below. The Hunter sucks in air through his teeth, clutching his chest and coughing. “Had t’ be fuckin’—ngh!—brittle, didn’t I?”

The whirr of a Beam Cannon spinning up to his right makes him turn his head, greeted by the barrel of Rosa’s gun just a few feet from his face. On the high ground, SYN raised his gun, his own Elerium Phase Cannon preparing to shoot. Rosa barked out a laugh. “See you, sucker.”

The Hunter’s face fell. “Well, shit.”

That was all he got out before the combined fire of Rosa and SYN tore him up, Sherry in the back getting her own chance to add a shot or two. Orange blood sprayed from each wound, leaving the Hunter crying out, ghastly screams eventually silenced as enough plasma was bored into him to be fatal. Rosa stepped back into cover just as his body was teleported away. SYN descended, taking a few steps before his head swiveled to the Hunter’s sarcophagus. The purple psionic energy that had been moving in waves over its surface had dispersed, and power was saturating the air. In the back, Clint noticed it as well.

SYN turns fully towards it, then fires an experimental shot. The bursts of plasma connect with the surface, leaving darkened holes wherever they landed. “It appears as if the sarcophagus is now vulnerable. Firing upon it is advised.”

“ _ You heard the robot, and Tygan said as much up here, _ ” the Commander said, coming in on comms. “ _ Fire at it. _ ”

“No need to ask twice!” Sherry clamors up to the high ground in the middle of the room, standing at one of the corners and getting off a shot. Everyone else moves to their formations, unloading their guns on the slab. More and more black marks marred its surface, cracks starting to form that bled a lavender light.

It got to a point where everyone had to reload, all except SYN, his Phase Cannon’s mag having plenty of juice left in it. He took his chance to fire off another volley of shots before the Hunter’s voice filled the room, coming from the sarcophagus.

“ _ Going for the gold, I see. Well, I can’t really just let you guys run amok, that’d be bad. _ ” A raised pad in the room started to glow. “ _ Commander, since you like tin cans so much, have a few. _ ”

Three ADVENT Heavy MECs appeared on the platform as the light faded, guns at the ready and surveying the squad.

“Oh, MECs!” Clint laughed, moving forward a bit. He took his psi-amp into his hand, starting to channel his power through it. “How quaint.”

He threw the energy forward at one of them, the psionic energy curling around it and centering on the launching mechanism on its back. With a menacing click, the explosives in it detonated, destroying the Heavy MEC outright and heavily damaging the other two, shredding their armor. Roland took it as his chance to hop over a barrier or two, coming to a stop in cover, taking a shot at one of the MECs with his shotgun. It went down, the other standing its ground, aiming at Roland and firing, keeping him pinned to his cover.

“Hold on,” Sherry says, moving to the other side of the platform, “I’ve got you covered.” She carefully took aim while the MEC was busy suppressing Roland, her ensuing shot hitting home successfully. All three Heavy MECS lay on the ground.

“ _ What was that about robots? _ ” The Commander said.

“...  _ Well. I never said they were  _ good  _ tin cans. Maybe this’ll be more of a challenge. _ ”

Once the Hunter was done speaking, a pad behind everyone’s general positions started to glow, revealing a Muton flanked by two Archons, already taking aim at the exposed party.

“Shit, move, move!” Clint dove for cover as a plasma beam nearly took off his head, the rest of the squad following suit. Rosa was slow on the uptake, watching as the Muton took aim and fired at her.

She braced for a shot that never came. Looking back, SYN was standing in front of her. His armor had absorbed the blunt of the plasma, but a few spots belied the wiring beneath it. “Rosa, I highly advise faster reaction times. Losing you would surely put the squad at a disadvantage.”

“Yeah? Losing  _ you _ is gonna put us in hot water!” She practically glued herself to his back. “This WAR Suit can take more than you think!” Rosa took the chance between the Muton’s shots to rev up her Beam Cannon, stepping out from behind SYN to unload back on the Muton, taking a chunk out of it as it scrabbled for cover.

“If only Wukong hadn’t got himself punched...” Roland eyed the Muton, looking over to Sherry. Sherry herself had moved back to her previous spot, popping off shots at the Archons, preventing them from standing still long enough to aim their fire well. While they were distracted, he moved up, but the Muton caught him moving and blind fired at him, plasma shooting over his head. He cursed, hugging his cover. “Cherry! Need a Defense Protocol if I want to do anything!”

She took another shot or two before nodding to her GREMLIN. “Go cover ‘em!”

The GREMLIN spared no time, whizzing over to Roland and projecting a field over him. To the outside observer, Roland’s position kept changing, his form blurred and hard to define. He lept over his cover, easily dodging shots from the Muton, moving to flank it. He took his spare Fusion Axe in hand and with a great overhead throw, sent it flying, the blade burying itself a few good inches into the Muton’s skull, downing it.

Clint climbed up to high ground with Sherry, standing behind a raised wall, taking aim with his Plasma Bolt Caster. “Dodge this, infidel!” The two arches of the bow fanned out as the plasma bolt formed, the shot screaming through the air. Even as the Archon tried to dodge, once the plasma caught even just the edge of it, the shot seemed to redirect into it, burrowing through it, bringing the second enemy of the pod down.

The second Archon roared out, the flames of its rockets gaining a sinister red hue. It blazed a flight path towards Roland, dodging the spread of his Storm Gun, arms closing in around the illusions. The Ranger screamed as the Archon flew higher and higher into the air, mockingly laughing as it prepared to drop him. Sherry’s GREMLIN chirped out in panic, flying back over to its operator.

Clint cursed, reloading his single-shot weapon. SYN had already reloaded, taking aim and firing, but missing, over calculating due to trying to avoid hitting Roland, circuits whirring in distress at the shot. Rosa was also in the middle of reloading her cannon.

“ _ Awww, someone’s about to learn the tale of Icarus quite literally. If you people had some sense, maybe you could’ve saved him. _ ”

The Commander’s voice came in through comms. “ _ Cherry, reload! _ ”

Sherry activated her Auto-Loader, taking aim. “They all said I should put a Repeater on this instead of a Loader, look where we are now.” After her quip, she landed a shot square in the Archon’s side. It cried out in agony, releasing its hold on Roland, whose first order of business now that his arms were free was to grab his axe and catch himself on the still-floating Archon with it. The blade sunk into its gut amongst the groan of metal and tearing of flesh, bringing out another agonized scream as it spiraled to the ground. The Ranger brought his axe free and made a heavy, but safe landing as it crashed into the floor.

Rosa finished reloading her cannon, casting her gaze over to the sarcophagus. The psionics around it were starting to cover the surface of it again, the bare exterior of it shrinking among the encroaching wave. It’d take too long to get her gun spinning again in prep for a shot and she was sure everyone else was still making sure Roland was fine. In a bout of quick thinking, she raised her left arm, the mechanism on it giving a high-pitched whine as it quickly primed. “You’re not getting away that easily!”

Her arm bucked as she fired off the Shredstorm Cannon, the force of it enough to push her slightly even with the aid of the WAR Suit. The spread of alien alloy shrapnel and plasma burrowed into the exposed part of the monolith with a sound like booming thunder. The force of the shot was enough to widen the crack that was forming in the middle of it, the other side visible as they spread, and spread, and spread...

The purple of the psionics fled the sarcophagus as the cracks splintered over it, each successive one giving a sound like a combination of ice and metal shattering. The fractures reached the edges of the slab, each piece still holding together but shaking and cracking with more pinkish sparks.

“Is that it?!” Roland shouted, out of breath.

The Commander was the one to spy the energy rising upwards, channeling into one of the transport pads. “ _ Not yet, stay alert! _ ”

Soon, the rest of the squad spotted it too, quickly scrambling into better positions. When the light faded and the column of purple retreated, the Hunter was revealed, appearing to be in perfect shape... except for one or two wounds still in his gut.

Before anyone could fire, he held up a hand. “Wait, wait, shhh...” He put a hand up to his hood, as if listening to something. “Can you hear that? Trick question, you can’t, you haven’t ever been able to.” He broke out in a grin, starting to clap. “The Elders have shut up for once in their  _ glorious _ lives! I’ve gotta thank you, XCOM, if I knew having my sarcophagus trashed was the way to make them stop bugging me, I would have invited you over for this houseparty sooner.” 

His grin got wider, looking a bit more unhinged. “I suppose I’m mortal now.  _ Good. _ As thanks for freeing me, XCOM, I’ll give you a little gift. One last battle to the death. Don’t disappoint, now.”

Quick as the flash, the Hunter darted from where he stood, gunning for one of the closest towers. SYN fired on him but the Hunter was far enough from him to weave between his shots, pulling himself up a ladder with one hand and swiftly drawing his Darklance again. “Oh yeah,  _ you. _ I’m not going to have you punch me into oblivion with a stupid one-liner again.”

SYN shuddered as he attempted to activate Overdrive again, but the Hunter was quicker, aiming up a shot and firing, the mysterious shot shredding through the air, leaving a dark pink trail in its wake. It hit home on one of SYN’s leg joints, completely obliterating the socket, causing the SPARK to topple and crash to the floor, systems loudly beeping in alarm.

“ _ SYN! _ ” Rosa cried out in distress, crouching down next to him. The robot was still bulky enough to be low cover, but had to drop his gun to keep himself steady. Rosa fretted over him, looking up as the Hunter lined up another shot, just barely ducking her head down in time, the bullet splitting the top of her helmet.

“ _ Fortuna, you’re a sitting duck there! Move! _ ”

“No!” Rosa had practically dropped prone, one hand on her cannon while the other gripped SYN’s chassis. “I’m not leaving him!”

“ _ RRRRR _ -Ro—sa...” SYN’s audio matrix had been scrambled by the fall, making his voice glitch, his head angling back to “look” at her. “R-r-ruu— _ uuun _ ...”

“Aw, ain’t that just  _ heartwrenching _ .” The Hunter laughed sadistically. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you two had a thing for each other.”

Roland let out a cry of rage, vaulting over his cover. “You sick basta—!”

“Oh, no you don’t!” Supporting his sniper rifle on the railing in front of him, the Hunter’s other hand grabbed for his pistol, switching the mode on it and cracking off a shot. It hit Roland square in the neck, causing him to collapse, a quickly-draining needle jutting from his neck. “I’m not about to be challenged by  _ either _ of you.”

He chuckled darkly, setting his sights on Sherry. “And before  _ you _ can do anyth—”

The Hunter didn’t spot the Specialist’s missing GREMLIN until it was shocking him, making his shot go wide, giving a pained shout. Sherry stuck out her tongue and made a gesture the Commander wouldn’t approve of, firing and grazing the Hunter’s side, wearing him down further.

Clint could practically hear the Commander jump forward on his comms, voice panicked. “ _ Clint, NOW! _ ”

Face set in determination, he sprinted around for a clean shot at the Hunter, taking out his psi-amp once more, absolutely flooding it with power until he hurt to look at. With a shout of exertion, he flung the power at the Hunter, his psionics coiling like a whip around the Hunter’s mind.

The Hunter dropped his weapons, clutching his head. “N-nice t-to know you’re r-resorting... resorting to—!!” His speech was cut off by his own scream, one matching his volume coming from Clint.

There was a battle of wills taking place between the two of them. Clint was searching desperately for entries in the Hunter’s mental fortress. No gifted psionic was he but he was still able to force him out at every turn. Clint couldn’t pick up anything—all of his smaller powers; disorientation, panic, dazing, the Hunter was blocking all of it.

He surged more and more of his power in, almost forcing a weakness open before that, too, was closed. No mind control. He could just  _ feel _ the Hunter taunting him as he was progressively getting more and more shut out.

Clint couldn’t fail the Commander. At this point, he was starting to feel the strain of his failed efforts on himself. If he stopped now, he’d only be taking himself out of the fight, leaving Sherry and Rosa to the wolves. He couldn’t fail. He couldn’t stop.

Clint screamed out, his psi-amp starting to shudder violently, cracks forming in the sleek design. Sherry and Rosa had to cover their eyes at this point—looking at him was like looking at the Sun. The trail of energy in the air connecting the Hunter and Clint’s heads gained the same blinding brilliance, and he forced his psi-amp forwards, completely draining himself of the shining psionic power, throwing it down the line, right at the Hunter’s head.

Both screams were cut short, leaving agonizing silence. Sherry was the first to brave opening her eyes. The Hunter laid on his back on his perch, weapons discarded. Clint was face-first on the floor, similarly unmoving.

Rosa was the next to start looking, along with SYN. “Are they...?”

“ _ Crazo... _ ” The Commander sounded disbelieving. “ _ Crazo’s alive. Unconscious, but alive. Cherry, scan the Hunter for life signs. _ ”

She nodded, directing her GREMLIN over to the unmoving Chosen. A blue scanner moved over his form for a minute, chirping and flying back over to Sherry, who read the output. “He’s alive too.”

Rosa shakily stands up, hoisting her Beam Cannon. “Good. I wanted to finish him off myself.

“ _ Stand down, Fortuna. That’s an order. Crazo put him out of commission for a reason. _ ”

The barrel of her gun faltered, tipping downwards. “What...?”

A familiar groan came from nearby as Roland woke up, slurring his words. “Where’s that... that fuckin’ prick... m’gonna stab him...”

“ _ Rascal, good to see you’re alive. Take it easy, the fight’s over. _ ”

He held his head up a second more before slumping back to the ground, muttering incomprehensibly. Rosa took the chance to look over SYN. “SYN, are you—are you ok?”

“ _ Dddddd _ —damage d-d-diagnostics conclu _ ddddd _ ed.  _ Vvv _ ocal systems: 65% s-s-s-stability.” He picked up his weapon, putting it on his back. “ _ Aaaaaaa _ —ambulatory systems: 25% damaged. M-m-movement still po _ sssss _ ible.” There was a storm of groaning and whirring as the plates on his arms shifted, his gauntlets getting wider and thicker. He planted them on the ground, and with servos groaning, pulled himself into a handstand.

Exhausted and emotionally shot, Rosa could only laugh. “I, uh, I guess that answers it.”

“Sure does.” Sherry couldn’t suppress a smile, relieved at the mission being ultimately successful. Her face fell as she remembered what the Commander said. “Commander O’Leary? You said the Hunter was ‘out of commission’ for a reason?”

There was a moment before the Commander responded. “ _ Yes. I instructed Crazo to see if there was any way to render him able to be captured. Like I have spoken to him, I have interests in the Hunter, ones that want him alive. I’d wait for Rascal to wake up further before moving out—I want at least two people on the Hunter. Considering Crazo is likely going to remain unconscious and SYN is in no state to do any carrying, you and Fortuna should assume the task. _ ”

Sherry was silent, looking over at the Hunter’s unmoving form. Quite a few thoughts were racing through her head, but she silenced them. If the Commander wanted the Hunter in alive... “Understood. Give me a minute to check up on everyone and we’ll move out. I’m sure I have something that can perk Rascal right up.”

“ _ Copy that. _ ”

Eliza remained staring at the screen for a while longer after that.

“Commander.”

She didn’t react to Bradford.

“Commander O’Leary, your knuckles are white. Take your hands off the railing.”

With a shaky sigh, she wrenched her hands off of the metal bars. She rubbed them, still staring up at the screen. “We... it happened. He’s down. Can’t revive. Elders can’t reach him.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Central nod, but his face escaped her. “Thanks to Clint, though I’m worried about his state. Using that much psionic power—”

“Likely has put them both in a comatose state,” Tygan finished from somewhere behind Eliza. She was still trained on the screen as Rosa and Sherry hoisted up the Hunter. “I expect the Chosen to recover faster than Clint, but even then, it is unclear how long either of them will be unconscious for.”

“Guess that means we better hurry up,” the Commander mutters, running a hand through her hair. “Get the cell ready. Firebrand’s still in the area but we better make this quick. Something tells me that we’re gonna get a lot of heat, really quick.”

“ADVENT’s way ahead of you, Commander.” Shen was at one of the other monitors, typing away at a pad. “They’re sending in everything they’ve got from the other cities. They’re going to be a while, but we need to start moving soon.”

She nodded, crossing her arms, head buzzing with thoughts. “Menace One-Five, get moving on the double. ADVENT’s coming in and probably knows we’re making off with one of the Chosen. If we weren’t public enemy number one, we sure as hell are now.”

Bradford sighed. “So we just stole a Chosen.”

Despite herself, Eliza grinned. “Yes we did.”


	3. Broken Throne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The other Chosen deal with the fallout of the Hunter being captured.

By the time the Assassin felt herself leaving the Elders' embrace as she landed in the gathering hall, she could see that she wasn’t alone.

The Mindbutcher, the Warlock, was already standing off to her left. He looked just as confused as she was to see her there. Though, they must’ve continued along the same train of thought, because they both looked to the last spot.

The Banehound, the Hunter, was missing.

“Typical,” Jax-Rai spat. “The Elders summon us urgently and he deigns to defy Them.”

Fal-Mai felt herself sharing a bit of the Warlock’s contempt. But there was something... strange, about Ref-Il’s absence. It wasn’t out of character for him to be missing, no, but he’d never shirked a gathering before, assuredly because the punishment would be worse than him speaking out in front of an Elder. What was this feeling in the pit of her stomach, as well?

She closed her eyes. She longed for the ability to call upon the Commander’s knowledge in times like this. The Hunter may have been the Elders’ greatest tactical creation, but Eliza was greater. Stronger. Maybe even more cunning. The Assassin supposed she would attempt to draw the Hunter’s location out of the Network.

She sent out her query.  _ Where is the Hunter? _

The answer she got back screamed in her mind.

**_LOCATION:_ ** _ UNKNOWN. Last known location: Inner Sanctum, in combat with XCOM. _

The fact that she got a comprehensive answer at all sent a chill down her spine. Normally Ref-Il was monitoring any queries relating to himself on the Network, prone to shutting down one’s access if the matter was even tangentially related to him. He seemed like he thrived off of being a nuisance. If the Assassin was able to inquire and get an uninterrupted response...

_ Last known status? _

A flood of data entered her consciousness. Of the Hunter facing off against XCOM, being forced back into his sarcophagus. The Commander’s forces firing upon it,  _ breaking it. _ Ref-Il coming back in, mocking the Elders as always, taking his ground, the psion of the squad taking him over—

Then, nothing. Nothing as the only access the Network had into the room was... Killed? The vitals data she got indicated that he was still alive up until the link was cut. He could still be dead, but usually the Network was able to confirm death status as whoever was hooked up to it sent out a last packet. This was... something else.

She found herself speaking aloud as she opened her eyes. “He’s gone.”

Jax-Rai looked at her strangely for a second, before dipping into the Network himself. He opened his eyes before wearing a wicked grin. “Oh, how the impotent fall. Take heed, Fal-Mai, for his ignorance at the Elders' true glory, he has been slain—”

He stopped shortly, as did the Assassin’s current train of thought. The file they both accessed was being updated by a Codex, furiously uploading new data. They both dipped back into the Network, accessing the rest of the status report as it was provided.

The room was different—it was his Stronghold, a room where light shone through a gaping hole in the ceiling.  _ Blast charges. _ From a door that was in-focus on screen, movement emerged. An XCOM SPARK, rebalanced to walk on its hands, a gun on its back, a leg missing, the socket blown out. A soldier, carrying the psion from earlier slung over his shoulder. Two more soldiers, carefully navigating the doorway—

With the Hunter carried in their arms, limp and unmoving.

Data popped up as Ref-Il was hoisted by the two operatives. He was  _ alive. _ Unconscious, and the Network identified his status as a psionically-induced comatose state that the psion shared.

The gathered squad walked to the middle of the light in the room. Four black cords dropped down from above, each awake operative grabbing ahold of one. The SPARK set itself into a sitting position and seemed to almost gingerly take ahold of it, while the two soldiers carrying Ref-Il did a careful balancing act to keep him held between them. The ropes retracted, taking the squad up with them, out of sight. A few more seconds and the feed concluded.

The two remaining Chosen returned from the Network. Now the Assassin’s gut was burning, but she couldn’t identify what exactly was trying to work its way up her throat.  _ Alive.  _ **_Captured._ ** The Hunter had been taken from them, just as they had taken soldiers from XCOM.  _ Taken. _ The fire burned harder.

She was brought from her thoughts by the sound of the Warlock’s laughter. It echoed in the open space, sharply ringing off of her sensitive ears. He never laughed. “ _ Captured! _ ” Jax-Rai Tessura ceased his laughter quickly, as if aware of the fact. “Not only shown his incompetence, but taken in by XCOM!” He grinned, all teeth, extending a hand to Fal-Mai. “Is this not justice? Is this not the Elders’ will in action?”

“He was still one of us.” She averted her gaze, looking into the middle of the room. The circular opening housing a bright purple flame, burning low for now. She hoped the Elders would come soon, and give guidance. “Unfit for ruling, yes. But no child of the Elders deserves this fate—if the Elders willed it, They would have severed him Themselves.”

The Warlock’s face fell, taking in her words. “Even among the Elders’ children, there can still be disgraces to Their name.” He joined her in looking to the flame. “No mistakes, yes, but they can still stray from Their path. His fate was sealed the moment he thought of Them as anything less than his saviors.”

“But...” Her face twisted. There was something she couldn’t place. A feeling of loss that tugged at her gut, only making that sick fire burn harder. “He still belonged to the Elders. Stood beside  _ us. _ ” Even if the Hunter was uncooperative just like Jax-Rai, even if he was  _ insufferable _ , Fal-Mai was...  _ distraught.  _

The Warlock didn’t answer, eyes catching the firelight. How long were the Elders going to let them wait? The Assassin’s hands balled into fists. She was getting  _ emotional _ . “Perhaps... perhaps these crude  _ emotions _ are blinding me in regards to the situation.”

Jax-Rai looked at her, and there was something in his expression she couldn’t place. “They very well may be. If you’re looking for council, I would remember what the Elders intended for you.”

_ What the Elders had intended for her... _ She took a deep breath, letting the air come in and blow the flames away. An icy, chilling wind, cutting down unacceptable notions. She would be the Elders’ blade. Unquestioning. Unmoving.  _ Unemotional. _ She was nothing but Their will. She offered the Warlock a glance of appreciation before gazing back into the fire.

They didn’t have to wait much longer. The phantasmal flame started to grow in height, and the braziers at the four corners of the square platform alighted. The two Chosen kneeled respectfully as the voice of the Elders filled their minds.

“ _ Our children, We are sure you have learned the fate of your sibling. _ ”

The Elders' presence washed over them like a wave; strong, yet soft; commanding, yet comforting. Fal-Mai relaxed in Their company, reinforcing her notions.

“ _ Even now We feel his absence. A voice... silenced. Taken from Us. _ ”

Even deep in her concentration, the Assassin could hear the flames of the braziers burn higher as the Elders’ presence grew among them. She dared look up, watching as the form of one of Them took shape.

“ _ You are born of Our power... does not Our very life force flow within your veins? _ ” The Warlock and Assassin could feel the Elders’ very being spread over them, mingling with their thoughts, their form. “ _ We feel such... loss. _ ”

The outline of the symbol of the Chosen glowed a foreboding red where the Hunter would have stood. Doubt began to creep. The Assassin was beginning to feel dread.  _ Loss. _ She had felt it! She had shared with the Elders’ grief, but... that was earlier.

_ Before she remembered what They wanted from her. _

“ _ Yet, within you, We sense something  _ **_else_ ** _. _ ”

Their anger was starting to permeate the area, making the spectral flames burn violently, almost threatening to lash out at the Chosen. She could feel Their attention turn to the Warlock.

“ **_Arrogance._ ** ”

Jax-Rai looked... confused, stunned, even. He quickly averted his gaze to the side, frustration evident in his visage. Frustration at himself and... The Assassin dare not think it, not when They were so close.

“ _ And... _ ”

She could feel the full weight of Their judgement upon her. Taking ahold of the empty state she had presented Them with, clutching it,  _ resenting it. _

“ **_Emptiness._ ** ”

For just a second, she could see the Warlock spare a gaze her way. He was unreadable again, but just for the tiniest second, she thought she saw a flicker of something.  _ Apology. _ Before she could get too close a look, she bowed her head in submission to the Elders.

“ _ There can be only  _ **_one_ ** _ explanation. _ ”

Thanks to her hearing, Fal-Mai could pick up on the sound of the Elders’ mask coming slightly open just before the Elders enacted Their wrath.

The torrent of overwhelming psionics crashed down on the both of them, starting at their backs and them spreading in an instant. Fal-Mai gave a guttural cry as the air was forced from her lungs, buffeted by the Elders’ force, until all she knew was  _ pain _ . The roar of Their power filled her ears until they were overwhelmed, doubling her agony as the Elders seemed to take advantage of her weakness, forcing it against her as punishment. Whether by her intention or not, the pose she took as she was being pushed to the floor was supplicant.  _ Begging _ for the Elders to stop. Her eyes were squeezed shut and if she had any more sense, she’d likely be sobbing. All of her being felt like it was being destroyed, cell by cell, until there would be nothing remaining.

“ **_YOU HAVE SUCCUMBED TO THE FAILINGS OF YOUR HUMANITY. YOU SQUANDER OUR GIFT TO YOU._ ** ”

The torrent continued even as the Elders spoke, Their voice twisted with rasping fury. The Assassin couldn’t process anything anymore, so overloaded with pain and agony. She couldn’t even formulate a single thought as all she could perceive was the unimaginable suffering being forced upon her. She had no breath, yet she had to scream, jaw dropped in silent pleading.

“ **_WHAT WAS GIVEN CAN BE TAKEN AWAY._ ** ”

Even though it was mere seconds that went by after that before They ceased Their onslaught, it felt like another eternity. But eventually, the blasting of psionics subsided. Fal-Mai took in a pained gasp, not daring to open her eyes yet, still bowed and shaking. Their punishment was done but she could still  _ feel _ the pain, could still feel it coursing through her body. A blow that left no marks that could heal.

Her hearing returned just in time for her to pick up Jax-Rai’s own gasp that quickly turned into pain-wracked coughing, hearing his voice gently rise as it seems he was getting back to kneeling. Despite how every nerve in her body screamed against it, she too started to rise again, trembling with the phantoms of pain. She gingerly started to open her eyes, but kept her head bowed, hearing the Elders’ headdress close.

“ _ Destruction awaits us all if you fail, and this pain is but a fraction of that. _ ” She could feel Their attention sweep over the two of them, now no longer furious, but contemplative. “ _ But there is still something to be done. _ ”

Even though the pain had largely subsided, Fal-Mai refused to let herself relax. She knew that nothing could truly prepare her for another round of punishment. Is this what Ref-Il felt every time he was at the Elders’ mercy? Why did he even act out, knowing that was in store for him? Even with his disrespect, there had to be a reason...

She cleansed her thoughts before the Elders spoke again. “ _ It would pain Us greatly to lose another of Our children, and even greater to know they were falling into the enemy’s hands. We will not sit by and let another one of you be taken. _ ”

The Assassin dared a look over at the Warlock. He was still slightly trembling from the onslaught he went under as well, but he seemed to have largely recovered. He looked somewhat calmed by the Elders’ words but there was a ghost of something underneath even as They continued. “ _ Our eldest, Jax-Rai Tessura. We know that you will never succumb to the assault that the Commander’s forces put upon Ref-Il Mordenna. Leave, but know that We love you. _ ”

He bowed his head, eyes lidded. The Warlock flashed another glance to her before the braziers flared, and he disappeared in a fog of psionics. That left her as the sole audience to the Elders. At an earlier time, she would have laid herself low for the chance to be the sole recipient of the Elders’ attention. But now...?

She dashed her thoughts, slowly looking up at the Elders’ projection. She felt as if They were looking down on her. “ _ Fal-Mai Neylor, Our youngest. Your potential is still yours to grasp, even if We are disappointed in your failings. _ ”

She bowed her head again, unable to meet Their perceived gaze. She desperately tried to cleanse her head of thoughts, even as doubts and worries scurried around her skull like bugs. “Please forgive me for my mistakes...” Her voice was hoarse. Even if she was unable to scream, her throat was still raw from the effort.

“ _ We  _ love _ you, child. If you are willing to make amends, We are always willing to forgive. _ ” Calm spread over her, projected by the Elders, soothing her, making her relax her muscles a bit. “ _ You are Our blessed creation. The product of Our greatest efforts. We do not wish to see you stolen as your sibling was. We wish for you to feel honored at Our efforts. _ ”

She nodded. Deep down, she wasn’t. “I am. Thank you, my Elders.”

A warm glow of feelings suffused her—the Elders’ pride. “ _ You will always have a place in Our design. Now, We must take precautions to make sure you are not stolen from Us. _ ”

Fal-Mai counted herself lucky she was able to return to her state of emptiness before the Elders surged into her mind. She felt as if every stone that made up the foundation of her consciousness was being turned over and inspected as They washed Their power over her, feeling Them fortify her in a manner she couldn’t quite grasp. She desperately thought nothing, felt nothing,  _ was _ nothing.

Eventually They receded from her mind. “ _ We have done everything in Our power to ensure that you will befall no psionic force that befell the Banehound. This is Our love for you. Now, go. _ ”

She nodded, and felt the pull of Their power at her. She didn’t resist, letting the tide of Their strength wash her away until she found herself back in front of her sarcophagus.

Once she was sure she was alone and that there were no remnants of the Elders in her mind, she allowed herself to collapse, shuddering out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. Now that she was certain that she was not being monitored, her suppressed thoughts came back in full force. Punished for doing what the Elders had asked of her. Punished for adopting Their will unto herself. Her thoughts went to the Warlock.  _ Punished for being  _ **_proud_ ** _ in the Elders’ will. _

Involuntarily, she curled into herself. This had to be some fault of her own. She must’ve misinterpreted Their will, or at the very least, misunderstood what Jax-Rai meant. The Elders were infallible, beyond reproach, above sin. Should she have attempted to cooperate with the Hunter more, to prevent this? What  _ was _ the Elders’ intentions for him?

How was she supposed to act if she was being punished for what she was expected to do?

There was no honor in this. There was no honor in being reprimanded for just attempting to please her masters. There was no honor in any of it.

The Assassin’s hands were on her head now, starting to swim in the pain that she had nearly drowned in. Such a brutal punishment. Such overkill on display. Despite herself, her heart went to Ref-Il, of his many times under that maelstrom of power.

Yet, what was she to do? Run? She almost laughed at that. The Elders were all-encompassing. She would be caught and likely flayed alive. Rebel? She thought of being punished again and shuddered, drawing further in on herself.

A single thought wormed its way into her head and refused to go away until it was acknowledged. XCOM. No... there was no chance. XCOM would never harbor the likes of her, who has slain so many of Resistance, so many of the Skirmishers—and yet...

She drew herself into a sitting position. There was nothing to be done. The Elders had the fate of the universe in mind. Anything done was justified against total annihilation. It didn’t calm her feelings, but it gave it something to grasp onto, attempting to rationalise her whole life.

_ The life the Elders  _ **_forced_ ** _ upon you, _ spoke an intrusive thought.

She didn’t think about it.

The Assassin settled into her favorite sitting position—legs crossed, arms on her knees, palms up, thumbs and index fingers together. Such a position was always comforting, allowing her to slip into a calmer state of mind, even if her thoughts tried desperately to brew like a storm.

Though, annoyance sprang on her when her head Priest came into the room, her presence standing out in the Assassin’s senses, waiting for permission to enter further. Fal-Mai took a deep breath. “Come.”

The Priest walked calmly in, coming to stop in front of the Assassin and kneeling. “My Chosen, there has been word of XCOM coming closer and closer to your Stronghold. As you were meeting with the Elders, two of their ranks and one of the Skirmishers encroached upon your territory.” She looked up at her Chosen, whose eyes were open, but lidded. “They... they are still in the area. Forgive me for presuming, but do you want to move upon them?”

“Do not fear for suggestions.” The Assassin looked at her Priest, voice soft. “If I was not willing to hear them, I would not have invited you in.”

“Thank you, Nightmaiden.”

Fal-Mai tilted her head downwards in thought. The image of the unconscious Hunter being lifted into the sky entered her mind’s eye as she contemplated what to do. If XCOM encroached upon her Stronghold and she proved victorious in pushing them out, the Elders would look upon her with true pride, wouldn’t They?

If she failed... XCOM were successful in taking Ref-Il. The Assassin knew the Commander’s way of thinking. Even if Fal-Mai’s mind had been hardened against the psionic overload she had used against him, what was to say she wasn’t going to attempt something else? After all, Eliza had adapted to their strengths and weaknesses well. The thought she had observed before came roaring back.

This time, she didn’t squash it, despite her best thinking.

“Let them observe.” She let her mouth form into a knowing smile. “Let them come. Let them  _ fight _ . If the Commander wants to test her troops against me... that will be its own punishment.”

“Yes, Nightmaiden. I will let your forces know of the possible incursion.”

The Assassin nodded, the Priest taking it as dismissal, venturing back out of the room.

As she returned to her meditation, clearing her mind, she allowed herself to muse over a single thought before she went back to the breath.

What were XCOM going to do with the Hunter?


	4. Hospitality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Commander meets with the Hunter and has a little chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of this chapter deals with heavy themes of suicidal thoughts and situations. If content like that bothers you, scroll down to the page break and read on from there.

Sleep was not something the Hunter got often.

If it was to annoy the Elders when they wanted him to do something, sure, he’d snore for about as long as he could force himself to. But there was just so many things he could be doing while he was awake.

He figured he didn’t have a choice, now.

He’d deigned to sleep in front of his sarcophagus, shirking a bed. He’d slept on worse places than on hard floor, so this was practically a designer bed. Strange thing was, his eyes were open. He wasn’t one of those weird open-eye sleepers, he just couldn’t move.

All he could do was stare at his sarcophagus. Watch as the world slowed to a crawl, watch as the first crack in it formed and spread, branching off into more splinters, watch as it exploded and drowned him in the psionic backlash, stripping him of his sense of being and thoughts and feelings—

Then suddenly he was on the outskirts of a haven, sitting in a tree, watching a few people go about their lives. Their faces kept shifting, twitching. He could never pick out anyone he recognized, and what was with this pervasive sensation of _purple?_ Was he on a bad trip or something? He looked down at his hands.

They were beige, covered in worn gloves.

Next thing he knew he was knocking around in his Trophy Room. Didn’t know what he was doing there, just ogling his various kills. His eyes lazily scanned the room, noting the new alien additions. Sectoids, Berserkers, Mutons... come to think of it, he never remembered mounting this stuff. He’d tried before; the Elders weren’t all too happy about it.

Come to think of it, this wasn’t his Trophy Room. He was on a ship of some sort, by the looks of it, and he was staring at a wall of mounted heads. Faceless, Archons, hell there was a Gatekeeper strung up from the ceiling. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say these looked like XCOM’s kills.

He spared a look to his right. Huh. Yeah, that was the Skyranger, all right. Even had some soldiers filing out of it—the same soldiers that he remembered seeing coming into his stronghold. That robot still had its leg shot out and that Ranger was carrying... Clint, was it? He’s gonna be out for a long time. Then the medic and the gunner...

The Hunter looked back at the trophy wall, and there was three new additions. From the shoulders up, it was him, the Assassin, and the Warlock, stuffed and mounted, eyes missing.

“Well,” he said to himself. “That’s pretty morbid.”

“ _Query unclear. I’d answer you, but I have no clue what you just asked._ ”

Back in his Inner Sanctum. His Darklance was strewn out in front of him, disassembled. Right, he was cleaning it out and was going to work on the Darkclaw next. Must’ve asked the Commander a question to pass the time. What’d he ask? Eh, didn’t matter. He could just ask her something else. Something hilarious! He loved how she’d snark back perfectly and joke with him. Made him feel like he actually had someone worth talking to. Oh yeah, there was this one joke he remembered perfectly. She probably did, too. He’d ask that.

“Where do you think you’d be if there were no aliens?”

Wait. That... wasn’t what he wanted to ask at all. A few parts of his Darklance were missing.

“ _Living my life as the tactical head of some nation. I was prized for my ingenuity even before the XCOM Initiative was founded. Honestly, I would settle with whoever was right with me._ ”

Well. Interesting. He tried again.

“You ever think all of this is hopeless?”

No. No, no, no. He realized what was happening now. His Darklance was gone completely, his pistol disassembled in front of him. A sense of foreboding was gripping him.

“ _Occasionally. I don’t think about it much. From what data the Elders provided me, there’s at least a nonzero chance that They can save the universe. In Their mind, I suppose that’s worth fighting for._ ”

She sounded concerned, which didn’t match her words at all. Ref-Il knew what his next question was going to be.

“Have you ever wanted to die?”

His pistol was fully assembled, hovering a few feet off the ground. It was pointed directly at him, even as both of his hands were down. He dully stared it down, challenging it to fire.

“ _You don’t have to do this._ ”

“Commander, you and I both know you’re just some database hooked up just how the Elders want you.” His eyes were locked on the barrel, his whole body feeling like lead. “I don’t think I’ve ever talked to you for real. I don’t think you ever really recall anything. I think an ample solution would be for me to stop thinking entirely.”

“ _There’s always another answer that’s not staring down the barrel of a gun._ ”

“If you care so much, _stop me._ ”

Something happened that wasn’t the memory. A flash of light blue. Suddenly the gun was gone and the Hunter was alone again. Sitting in front of a broken sarcophagus. No link to the Network. Just him and his thoughts.

He knew that wasn’t how things went. It was him holding that gun, pointing it at himself, half-tempted to ask himself if he felt lucky. The Commander didn’t answer after his last statement, either unable to do anything or just pulled away to answer someone else’s questions.

He had pulled the trigger, felt a flash of pain, and then was back into the void. The Elders didn’t even contact him this time, as busy as they probably were with something more important. All it had gotten him was one bullet less and about a few minute’s time loss.

God knows the Elders probably chose to ignore him. They were always on his back at the worst of times, and the one time they could’ve swooped him and make him feel like maybe, _maybe_ someone cared? Fucking forget about it.

He sighed, leaning forward where he sat. XCOM killing him would’ve been a mercy. From what his subconscious was trying to piece together, they took him in alive. For interrogation, probably, but as long as they kept him away from those damn pompous pricks, he’d call it paradise. Who knows, maybe he’d find a way to off himself while they weren’t looking. Or maybe just _force_ them to kill him. Being unruly and uncooperative was his specialty, it wouldn’t take much, surely.

Unless the Commander were there.

The Hunter cursed, rubbing his mouth. Yeah, all of this thinking assumed that the Commander never saw him at all. Things might get a bit more complicated if she actually talked to him even semi-daily. Even if all the talking they had done before XCOM took her back was strictly speaking, with a _vegetable_ , he still felt like she was about the only person he’d connected with. The impressive tactical prowess she had, her capacity to keep up with him in jokes... and the genuine concern she had whenever he started asking “interesting” questions.

“Fuck.” He rubs the short, curly, white hair that always got hidden by his hood. It was shaved on one side, and it was a remnant of something the Elders could never take away from his past. “If she remembers any of that, it’s gonna be an awkward conversation.”

 

* * *

 

“He’s alive.”

“Yes.”

“On... on your ship.”

“Yes.” Commander O’Leary tried and failed to suppress a smile as the conversed with Volk. “Yes, the Hunter is alive, on my ship. He’s captured.”

Volk continued to stare at her dumbly before giving an impressed whistle. “Wow, uh... Commander? It’s one thing to kill a Chosen, but it’s a whole other woods to take one in alive. You could be a Reaper any day, if you wanted.”

Eliza held up her hands, smiling good-naturedly. “Alas, I have a resistance movement to spearhead.”

Volk grinned. “Nobody said you couldn’t be a Reaper _and_ a Commander.”

“Please, it’d ruin relations with all the other factions.”

They shared a laugh, calming down, before a thought occurred to Volk. “You’ve... got him locked up, right?”

“Of course!” The Commander crossed her arms, giving him a disbelieving look. “I go through the trouble to wrangle one of the Elders’ kids and you think I’d just leave him on the floor of the barracks?” This was an awfully big show Eliza was putting on, and she knew it.

Behind her confident persona she was chatting up Volk with, there was a considerable amount of worry. It had been a few days, and neither the Hunter nor Clint showed any signs of waking up. In the Hunter’s case, that was fine to an extent, but Clint? Not having their greatest psionic operative was bound to make some of the soldiers a little nervous going out into more dangerous situations, but there were others that could hold the mantle well.

The Hunter being out for as long as he had been was a blessing in some rights—the Commander had already structured out plans with the help of Tygan and Lily for a cell that could house him. It took a bit more prodding and hushed whispers, but she had also managed to strongarm them into including two other rooms into the plan.

There was a knock at the opened door to Resistance Communications, and Commander O’Leary spared a look over her shoulder. Speaking of Tygan! She gave him a “one moment” gesture and turned back to Volk. “But yes, I’d say having the Hunter out of your hair will be a big boon, yes?”

“Of course.” Volk leaned forward, all smiles. “If you ever get the chance, there’s a dinner with your name on it, Eliza.”

She raised her eyebrows, noting the use of her first name. “I’ll take it under consideration, Volk. Don’t worry about the other Chosen—given half the chance, I’ll take ‘em again.” With that, she closed communications, turning to Tygan. “Thanks for knocking, Dr. Tygan. Have some news for me?”

He nodded, gesturing for her to come closer. As he did, he began. “Of course, Commander. I’m also here on behalf of Shen.” He brought up the datapad in his hands as she came close, bringing up a visual of the new room. “Construction of the room has progressed to the point where the Hunter’s cell is largely complete, complete enough to move him into.”

“And the other rooms?”

Tygan nodded. “Work is now beginning, but I would advise us leaving the Warlock’s cell until later. It must be built to withstand his incredible psionic power, and I fear we may lack the elerium compounds to do so.”

The Commander nodded, thinking over just where she’d get some elerium over the next few weeks. Supplies were good, perhaps she could visit a haven or two. “Focus on the Assassin’s cell, then. Anything else for me?”

“Indeed, Commander, we’re coming to the reason why _I’m_ here.” He swiped a page on the pad to the side, revealing a series of numbers, bars, and text. As Tygan spoke, she read through it. The Hunter’s vitals, apparently, though she’d be ashamed to admit that she didn’t have much insight as to what it all meant. “The Hunter’s state is changing. We noted increased neural activity over the past three hours, and we believe he may be emerging from his state.”

“What about Clint?”

He shook his head, looking slightly grave. “No such luck, I’m afraid.”

She straightened. “Keep an eye on his status. If the Hunter’s about the recover, he’s not far behind. Get the Hunter moved to his new cell—”

“Already a step ahead of you, Commander. The Hunter was moved to his cell because of that very reason.”

Eliza offered Tygan a grateful smile. “Thank you for your forward thinking.”

Tygan adjusted his glasses, nodding. “Of course.”

The Commander made to leave, but before she could get out of earshot, Tygan extended a question. “Do you intend to interrogate the Hunter? We have gone through the effort of capturing him alive. As loathe as I am to say it, there was not much purpose otherwise in going through with all of this.”

The Commander stops, thinking. Well, _interrogation_ wasn’t exactly the right turn of phrase, but... she’d leave the truth of her plans out of things until the time was right. Tygan was technically correct, anyways. “Guess you could say that.”

With that, she continued her walk down the hallway. As she walked, her feet went on auto-pilot as her thoughts came to the front. “Interrogations” this and “capturing” that... As perhaps fun it was to joke about, Eliza could only explain her true reasons with one sentence: _she was there._

Perhaps she didn’t express it well enough. Perhaps it was hard to bring across in the first place—not everyone got spend their time in tanks, or indeed have a... Thin Man jump on you...

She immediately angled her trajectory into the wall, thankful there was no one with her around this bend as her breathing sped up. She couldn’t even finish the thought without the memories of twenty years ago coming up like bile. It was bad enough that when Tygan tried to bring her in to look at the chip, she had to have Bradford bring her back a report. The less said about them... _removing it_ from her, the better.

Eliza took in deep breaths. _Calm yourself. You’re not here to go through a trauma trip._ She straightened, beginning to walk again. _The Hunter’s waiting on you._

She eventually reached her destination, ducking around improvised “under construction” signs until she made her way into the room.

Tygan may have been giving the engineers a little more credit than he should’ve. Exposed wiring was everywhere and the floor was half-finished, only the high-traffic areas being fully complete. On one side of the room was one squared room closed off by a sliding door, with two other skeleton frameworks to its right. There seemed to be a panel on the left side of the door displaying some info she couldn’t catch from her distance, and the other half of the room was basically still bare. At least the engineers were in the room, connecting panelling, blowtorching welds, or up to something the Commander couldn’t discern, though they paused to wave at her.

Shen was in the room too, perking up as the Commander entered. She was manipulating a datapad with a stylus, seemingly writing something down. “Heya, Commander. Tygan send you down?”

“Indeed. How’re things going in here?”

“Well, Commander, welcome to the Chosen Holding Cells. Working title.” She pointed the stylus at the mostly-finished block. “The Hunter’s Cell is basically finished, with a few minor touches we can straighten away while he’s in there.” She pointed a bit more specifically at the panel. “Vitals are on that display, and if you tap the speaker on it, you can transmit voice and video into a panel on the other side. There’s a few other options I’m still straightening out the code for, so I’d say don’t touch them for now.”

“Right. Any other plans for the room?”

“Plenty. I’m looking into total lockdown sequences just in case one of them gets out, as well as defence systems to keep them down.”

The Commander looks at her pointedly. “Subduing before killing, I hope.”

Lily shrugs, nodding. “I’ll keep it in mind. Otherwise, a lot of the tech’s just going to be centered around keeping the Chosen in place.” She looks at Eliza imploringly. “Anything _you_ want added, Commander?”

The Commander leaned back a bit, thinking. “If they don’t have beds already, I want them in the design docs. Even if it’s just a raised panel of the floor, I want _something._ This is less ‘design’ and more ‘decency,’ but I don’t want anyone terrorizing them in revenge, either. I’ll be the one deciding where the axes will fall.”

Shen nodded again at the instructions, writing a fews things down on her pad. “Anything else?”

“Think that might be about it. How the Hunter?”

“Awake, actually. And from the looks of it, pretty thrashed. I mean, I suppose I would be too, if a psionic overloaded my brain.” Lily then tilted her head at the Commander. “What are you planning to do in there, if you’re going in?”

“Hm.” She gave the cell a once-over. “According to what I told Tygan, some form of interrogation. How soundproof are those walls?”

Lily shifted in place, eyes darting to the other engineers, who had slowed in their work at the Commander’s words. “Shouldn’t you, uh... shouldn’t you let someone else do that, Commander? With all due respect, of course.”

Commander O’Leary gave her a pointed look, refusing to answer. Shen sighed, using the stylus to flip over to another screen on the pad. “With the compounds we used and how thick we made the walls just in case, nothing short of a jet engine taking off in there is gonna make it out—kinda why I had the panel implemented.”

Eliza nodded. “Thank you for the forward thinking on that—I appreciate ingenuity.” She pointed back towards the door. “How restrained is he in there?”

“He’s got handcuffs of the alloy we use in our armor—behind his back, of course—and he’s got shackles made of the same stuff.” Lily walked over to a nearby stool and picked up a remote, handing it to the Commander. “Here’s the remote for it. Central made a special request, actually, hope you don’t mind. First button can deliver an electric shock, the dial right here adjusts how strong it is.”

_Like a dog collar._ Involuntarily, she tensed up at the idea. That was something she was never touching. If he—or any of the others—were going to act up, she’d handle it herself. Preferably without inflicting pain. “And the other buttons?”

Shen looked over the Commander, frowning a bit. “Well, this one undoes the locks, this one secures the locks, and this is a panic button.”

She nods, taking the remote. “Thank you, Shen. I’ll be a bit.” Eliza turned, walking up to the door. She entertained maybe telling the Hunter she was coming in through the speaker system, but decided against it, unlocking the door and watching it slide open, stepping inside quickly and letting it shut behind her.

The inside of the cell was well-lit, though not to a blinding degree. There was nothing of real note inside of it other than the light embedded in the ceiling and the panel to her right, which looked a bit more reinforced than the one on the outside.

On the far end of the room, slumped against the wall, was Mordenna. Like Lily said, his hands were behind his back, and shackles were around his ankles, the chain just long enough to let him walk a bit, if he were to get up. His eyes were still a bit unfocused even as they locked on the the Commander, a grin twisting his face.

“Oh, hey Commander.” Good god, he _sounded_ groggy out of his mind. Eliza could feel her heartstrings getting pulled even as there was, as always, an undertone of cutting wit to his words. “You wouldn’t happen to have any Tylenol on you, would you? Feel like I’ve been twenty rounds with a Berserker...”

She shook her head, frowning. “Not this time—didn’t think of it. If you’re still feeling it next time, I’ll see what I can get for you.”

He groans, resting his head against the wall. “Fantastic. I’m trapped in the land of the Boy Scouts with my hands behind my back and my head feels like I’m getting continuously slugged.” The Hunter pauses for a moment, then gives a tired chuckle. “If this is how _I_ feel, I’d hate to see the other guy.”

Eliza returned the chuckle. “What, your most recent brawl put you on the losing side for once?”

“Hey.” He gives her a pointed look, before his eyes unfocused again. “To be fair, I was certain I’d win this fight... and even if I didn’t...” He trailed off. Eliza waited for him to continue but it looked like she wasn’t going to get anything more out of that particular train of thought. Half of her wanted to press him about what he meant, but considering the questions he’d asked while she was still in the Network? That’d be something she’d have to ask when he wasn’t practically concussed.

Eventually the silence went on long enough that even Mordenna wanted to break it. “Ok, what are we here for, Commander? Torture? Already pulling that off well enough, just standing there and staring at me. Interrogation?” He gave a short laugh. “I’ll put it this way; I’d like to see you try. Genuinely, I mean, I’d like to see what _you_ would do to try to weasel information out of me.” When she shook her head at that, he hummed in thought. “No interrogation or torture? What, are you just here to crack wise with a handsome devil like me?” He smirked. “Gotta admit, that would be just fine by me.”

“I might take you up on that later, hotshot.” She grinned. “But, killing you would be pointless after all this.” It wasn’t something she particularly wanted to do in the first place, anyway. “Also, after we lost a certain _scientist_ , we haven’t done interrogations. No, I’m just here to offer you something.”

The Commander watched as the Hunter stared at her, confident that even in his current state he could connect the dots. He eventually did, laughter bubbling up as he started to realize, his eyes a bit more focused. “You’re trying to get me to _defect!_ ”

“Well, would you?”

His laughter quieted down, though his smile remained as he weighed his options. His gaze shifted to his feet as he thought. Eliza could think of a few good pros if he asked; he could continue hunting big game if he wanted, and she was sure the tense survival of being a part of XCOM in the field would be up his alley. Plus, and this was one she shared, any chance to piss off the Elders was a good chance indeed. Maybe it was a little selfish to think that it could sell him alone, but...

She wanted to be able to help who she could from the Elders. If she was able to escape, why shouldn’t they? But, the Commander knew what she was up against. The Elders made fantastic promises and even seemed to uphold them at times... but she had been there for every punishment for the Chosen. She had been able to temporarily dip into their feelings as part of the data she could gather whenever the Elders were almost _killing_ them. There wasn’t anybody she’d wish that pain on outside of the Elders themselves. If there was some way she could...

“Say I do.” The Hunter’s words brought her out of her thoughts, grabbing her attention. “I take up your colors, march with your boy scouts, yadda yadda yadda. _If_ you somehow _do_ beat the Elders, what then? What’s a hardened killer like me to do when everything is good and happy in the world?”

The Commander thought over that a bit. Truth be told, she was just working to figure out how they _could_ force out the Elders, through bad publicity or otherwise. Everything seemed like such a long shot, and surviving after that? She had plans, but nothing she’d build plans on. “Well... I suppose we’d burn that bridge when we came to it.”

_That_ was enough to earn a genuine laugh out of the hunter, doubling over a bit. He recovered quickly, looking more and more awake. “Thanks, I needed that.”

“So, your answer?”

He hummed in thought again, then shrugged. “Tell you what. Give me, oh, a day or so to think it over. Don’t try to game me—I know what 24 hours feels like even in solitary confinement. When you come back, we’ll have another chat, alright?”

“Deal, and I intend on it being a bit longer than this one. Just didn’t want to boil you too much while you were coming off the psionic equivalent of horse tranquilizers.” She waited for him to stop snickering before she continued. “Suppose that’s about it. See you tomorrow, Mordenna.”

His smile got more toothy, and it was hard to gauge if it was malicious or playful. “See you tomorrow, _Eliza._ ”

Commander O’Leary turned, unlocking the door and walking out, making sure it closed behind her before she gave her attention to the engineers. It looked like Shen had already left, no doubt to work on finishing repairs on SYN. The personnel looked at her expectantly. Might as well tell them the truth, she figured.

“We’re going to be having another little talk tomorrow.”

Somehow, that did nothing to abate their mildly horrified faces.


	5. Preparations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are made ready for what's to come.

The Commander knew she was in for another stimulating conversation when she contacted Betos.

“I have heard from Volk that your battle against the Chosen Hunter was a successful one.”

Eliza raised her eyebrows. “Volk actually spoke to you about it?”

“He seemed rather... overjoyed, to share this news.” Betos then dipped her head a little bit at the Commander, giving her a pointed look. “He sounded even more enthusiastic about the details of the ‘capture’ you performed.”

Eliza sighed, leaning against the table in the room, supporting herself with a hand. “Knowing him, I’m going to have a  _ lot _ of misconceptions to clean up...well, what do you want to bring up about it?”

Betos took a moment to think. “You would not strike me as one for interrogation, Commander. It intrigues me that, given the easier option of permanently severing the Hunter from the Elders’ grasp, you chose a more difficult approach.”

The Commander gave an impressed hum. Betos was right—interrogation really wasn’t what she had in mind for him, though the fact that Betos didn’t think her one for interrogation  _ at all _ truly spoke to how much details of the first contact were erased. That was a little too much to explain right then and there, though, so she figured she’d just concede the point. “You’re the first one to pick that out.” She leveled a careful gaze at the Skirmisher, trying to appraise her body language. She may be former ADVENT but even ADVENT troops had tells. “What’s your point?”

Betos readjusted herself under the Commander’s inspecting stare. “I have always been the first to speak for mercy for ADVENT who wish it. But, Commander... I would not think the Chosen willing, under any circumstances. Nor would I vouch for their reform. The Chosen have butchered us and your people for twenty years.”

“And Mox hasn’t?”

That made Betos sigh. “The Chosen have a far greater capacity for violence than even the most ruthless ADVENT soldier. I have heard tales of horrors from every faction, of how each Chosen would antagonize their soldiers and mine, seeming to take pride in the terror they caused.”

The Commander maintained eye contact through the recording. “Betos, you must remember; at the end of the day, it’s me who’s making the calls out here. Maybe one day I can sit down with you and try to explain just exactly why I’ve taken the Hunter in alive—and will take the others in alive, given the chance—but I don’t think I’ll have the time to do so right now.” Her stare got softer, and she relaxed her stance. “I understand what I’m doing. I understand I’m sparing the most unforgivable of ADVENT’s ranks, right below the Elders. But, I have my reasons, and the means to do so.”

The Resistance leader looked over her a few moments more before nodding. “Very well. I suppose, in the end, your methods do remove the Chosen from the Elder’s control.”

Eliza gave a relieved smile. “Alright. Now, how did that last covert action go?”

“The mission was a success. With the help of your soldiers, we have identified the rough area of where the Chosen Assassin resides. One more incursion, and we would be able to formulate a plan to bring her down.” She gave Eliza a knowing look. “Kill or capture.”

The Commander nodded. “Even if we have some disagreements, I’m glad to see that you understand.” She started tapping away at a datapad next to her. “Who would you need for the next mission?”

“I would like to request Samhien back for this action, as he knows the terrain in the area. I would also need at least one experienced soldier from you, though I would recommend two, in case of an ambush.”

“Can do. I’m assigning you...” She scrolled through her options, nodding as she tapped two. “Herod Ishland and...” Commander O’Leary chuckled. “Vlad Tepes. Don’t ask,” she said to Betos’s inquisitive look, “That’s the only name he’d give us. He’s a fine soldier otherwise.”

“I understand. We will work together in order to stop another one of the Elders’ children.”

The Commander nodded, her hand hovering over the button to end communications before she took in a breath. “Betos. Say at least one of the Chosen is willing to make amends. I’m not asking for a hero’s welcome but... A chance, is what I’m asking. If you’re let down, then I won’t ask for anything ever again.”

Betos clasped her hands together. Her face was firm as she took a few seconds to consider it. “If you can present to me a truly reformed Chosen, I shall not ask anything of  _ you _ ever again. My Skirmishers might take more to convince than I, however.”

“As long as  _ someone _ approves, I suppose. Thank you, Betos. Will that be all?”

Betos nodded, and then the Commander closed the connection. Honestly, she was hoping that Betos would be one of the first to come around on the idea. Even if limited, Betos had a bit more understanding on the matter than most people did, so it was a good start. Volk might throw a fit, but that was to be expected, and Geist? Hard to say, but probably not happy either.

With Geist on the mind, Eliza prepared to open up another call when she heard footsteps behind her. She turned around, managing to catch Shen before she could knock. “Shen?”

Lily looked a bit surprised, but recovered quickly. “Hey Commander. Hope I’m not interrupting anything.” When the Commander shook her head, she continued. “I was thinking a little bit more about how you want to capture all of the Chosen and figured you could use some tools to do so.” She waved Eliza over, holding up a datapad so she could see. Two different mockups were on screen—an oddly-shaped bullet and a series of rings.

“I’m pretty sure the Warlock isn’t going to take well to what you used on the Hunter, and you and I both know the Elders have probably safeguarded the Assassin against it in some way. So we’ll throw them a punch from left field.” She pointed her stylus at the rings. “No real name for these yet, but they’re a series of linking cuffs that could snap together on the limbs, preventing them from moving. And this,” she said, motioning to the bullet, “is Riot Ammo. I took a few ideas from old police forces and figured this should be effective. They don’t pierce the skin, but enough well-aimed shots should theoretically knock  _ anyone _ out.”

The Commander hummed in thought. “Cons?”

“Well... the cuffs are heavy enough that a soldier would need to forgo a piece of equipment to carry them. The Riot Ammo, though, probably won’t be effective in most situations. I’m sure regular ADVENT would get stunned faster than the Chosen, but with this ammo, whoever’s using it is going to have to rely on everyone else.”

Commander O’Leary looked over the two designs. The Riot Ammo could be interesting, but pound for pound, the cuffs were better, in her eyes. Maybe if Clint was awake by the time they needed it...

“Go with the cuffs.”

Shen nodded, tapping the cuffs with the stylus and starting to type. Maybe a message to the engineers. “Got it, Commander. This is going to be some pretty sophisticated tech, so I’d project about five days for it if nothing major comes up.”

“Understood. Anything else you need from me?”

“That was about it. I’ll leave you to it, Commander.” With that, Shen walked out, taking a turn out the door and down the hall. Eliza watched her go, before turning to her own thoughts. It wasn’t quite 24 hours yet, just a little under that. Now that she thought about it, she should give a little time towards taking down the Warlock—not only did they presently not have the tools to do so, if she took it too fast, they may not have the  _ space _ to do so, either.

She felt the ship tilt ever so gently and gripped the Resistance table for dear life. When things stabilized and went into the telltale rumblings of landing, she breathed a sigh of relief. Actually, speaking about Bradford, they were probably at their destination. The Commander walked out of the room. There was a mission that needed discussed.

  
  


The Hunter was bored out of his mind.

As much of good intentions he was  _ sure _ the Commander had in mind, she’d neglected to give him much in the form of entertainment, outside of endlessly pacing the square floor of his cell. He’d already tried to finagle the cuffs open, with little success outside of rubbing his wrists sore, not that he cared too much. But, he  _ was _ a prisoner for now, he supposed. Wouldn’t be too good, image-wise, to be passing out toys to them.

That still did nothing to mitigate the fact that he was mind-numbingly bored.

Well, perhaps his brain wasn’t numbed enough, because it managed to dredge back up the questions he’d asked the Commander, facing him with them. He gave a soft groan, forehead hitting one of the walls. He was lucky that she didn’t seem to remember those at all when she first talked to him. But maybe she didn’t  _ want _ to bring them up. After all, who would like to bring up that kind of stuff to someone’s face?  _ Oh hey, remember all of those really concerning questions you asked me when I was basically being held hostage by the Elders? Yeah, let’s  _ **_talk_ ** _ about those. That sounds like a whole lotta fun. _

He scoffed, remaining leaned against the wall. If she even remembered. He remembered the connections surrounding her login being damaged by her severance. It took a bit to patch them, but he figured that the damaged versions were the ones she got to keep. His  _ own _ memory of items on the ADVENT Network... eh, he’d think about that later. Right now, there was a good 50/50 chance that she even knew half of the “conversations” they had.

But if she was extending this offer to him, did she or did she not remember? If she didn’t, maybe it was just wanting a powerful player like him on her side, personal liking be damned. If she did... he didn’t even want to think about it. He  _ couldn’t. _ Somebody wanting him around because they were concerned? Because they cared? Because they thought he was  _ worth a damn? _ The Hunter just couldn’t get to grips with it.

He moved to sit down, facing the corner. Yeah, let’s just try to put any stupid thoughts in timeout. He knew what his worth was—a gun that could plan missions. Granted, a good gun, dare he say a good-looking gun with something smart to say at everything, but a gun nonetheless. Even for as much delight as he took in his hunting, outside of that small rush he got from killing, he was just so...

No, “empty” wasn’t the right word. Not anymore. There was a flicker of something  _ disgusting _ deep down that he didn’t even want to identify. But it brewed in him still, turning into several things.

He took in a breath, trying to quell the tide, but only ended up fanning the flames. God, what the hell was wrong with him? He hated these thoughts that were bubbling up. They were so...  _ needy. _

But... how nice wouldn’t it be, if the Commander  _ liked  _ him? He huffed, still desperately trying to stop this train of thought, but it rolled over him. Not just liked him,  _ appreciated  _ him—thought he was fun to be around. What if she  _ wanted _ him around? Wouldn’t that be nice? It was something he could barely imagine, with his self-worth being so hilariously low. Somebody who wasn’t a target to shoot, a sibling to mess with, or an Elder to be thoroughly ignored, with the punishments that came with that. Somebody who...

Eventually, an emotion he was fine with harboring caught up to him as he refused to think on it further: embarrassment. “God, Mordenna, you are  _ pathetic. _ ”

  
  


The Commander finally found herself back on the Bridge, where Bradford was waiting for her. There didn’t seem to be any personnel in the room outside of the man himself, who straightened when she entered and walked over. “Commander.”

“Central. Got any new info on the mission?”

“Not as much as we’d hope, but more nonetheless.” He tapped a few things on the panel for the Geoscape, bringing up a few documents. “It’s a Blacksite, that much we know.”

“A refinery like the last one?”

Bradford shook his head, bringing one document in particular to the front. “From what we know and have pictures of, it doesn’t look like one. No green ‘caskets’ stacked around it—not much of anything stacked around it at all, actually. It’s heavily guarded, however, and at one point there was a lot of information flowing in and out of it. Activity around it did spike very recently.”

The Commander nodded at the information, but his last point stuck out of her. There was... something bad about that. “How recently?”

Central flipped through some logs. “They didn’t catch exactly when it started, but after we captured the Hunter.” He looked up, just in time to catch the Commander recovering from going stock-still. “So... that might be a hint.”

“Rightfully, a lot of ADVENT installations are going to light up after a Chosen’s been taken.” The Commander couldn’t help but feel she was talking to herself. “No matter what they are. Rooting out what they can do to prevent further captures and potentially even further incursions into the Strongholds is a task I can imagine a lot of facilities taking up— _ especially _ if it’s the remaining Chosen carrying out the orders.”

Central nodded, seemingly convinced, going back to the Geoscape. “Other than heightened patrols, there’s not much we should beware of... that we know of.”

Eliza leaned over the rails. Going by his tone and topic, it was time to start picking soldiers for the mission. “We’ll march in strong. Banel, Leo, and Kalight, for a start. Need a medic—I think Sherry’s still good to go. I think we can help her out on the field by putting March out there with her. Finally...” She took a moment to think. “Put Will out there. Think we could use a Sharpshooter this time.”

“Understood, Commander. I’ll pull them out for the mission.”

Commander O’Leary stood up, mentally checking the clock. “Let me know when everything’s ready—either send yourself or someone else down to the Chosen Holding Cells, I’m going to be in there for a bit.”

She got about halfway across the Bridge before Bradford called out to her, making her turn around. “Commander, I know you want the Hunter with us, and I’m not denying he’d be useful.” At that word, Eliza crossed her arms, but he pushed on. “But from the reports we’ve gotten from the Reapers and the other factions, he seems like a real loose cannon. I know he was working under the Elders, but there’s no telling if he’ll turn on us and strike out on his own.”

The Commander fixed him with a hard stare, hard enough to make even Central falter. After a bit, she sighed, closing her eyes. “I thought you understood, Central. I really did.”

“Eliza.” His tone was soft and cautious. “I do. I don’t want to see you hurt because you tried to extend mercy to someone who didn’t...”

“... deserve it?” 

Bradford stopped, mouth closing into a hard line. “To someone who didn’t appreciate it.”

The Commander brewed over it a bit, opening her eyes, looking at Bradford softly. “John. Do you trust me? Not as your superior officer, I mean as a  _ person _ . Do you trust in my decisions?”

Bradford rubbed his stubble, looking to the side and sighing. “I do, Eliza. You don’t strike me as the type to just make these decisions randomly.” He turned his head back to her. “Does anyone else even know of your plans, at least?”

Eliza deflated, drumming her fingers on her arm. “Betos, and that’s because she gathered it on her own. I was hoping to have him at least decided on it before I did anything. I’m not about to go around claiming I can  _ save _ him before I’ve even got my foot in the door. God knows it’s going to be a lot harder with the other two, and that’s even  _ if _ we can get our hands on them.” She runs a hand through her hair, tucking some of it aside. “It’s not news I can break lightly, either. A  _ lot _ of people are going to be up in arms about it. I mean, I come to you out of the blue one day and say ‘hey, remember that highly volatile alien we captured? Yeah, he’s on our side now, I swear.’ You’d think I was crazy, if you didn’t already.”

“Eliza...” Bradford looked like he wanted to say something more, but couldn’t find anything at the moment. Commander O’Leary took it as a sign to continue. 

“I’m sorry. Just, for all of it. I always operate under the notion that people know that  _ I  _ know that I’m taking risks on about everything I do. Then I put a friendly face forward and lead soldiers to possible doom.” She gives a half-hearted chuckle. “You know, a usual Tuesday, right?”

“Eliza, you don’t have to apologize to me.” Bradford walked forward, putting a hand on her shoulder. “If anything, I should be saying sorry for second-guessing you on this so much. I know you make decisions with risks in mind, but...”

The Commander gives a soft, tired laugh. “You’re a chronic worrywart, John. As much as I’m a hopeless sympathetic. The day you stop fussing is the day the Elders give in. I’d hold onto it.”

Bradford settled into the slightly lightened mood, his smile making a few wrinkles appear. “It’s giving me a lot of grey hairs though, I don’t know if I should.”

Eliza returned the smile, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I think salt and pepper would suit you well.”

Was it just her, or was his grip on her shoulder getting a bit tighter? Not uncomfortably so at all, just firmer. “What, and show my age? You’re suggesting some dangerous stuff, Eliza.”

“Please. Me, suggesting something dangerous?” She was glad the lightened mood was doing wonders for them both. “It’d be like you piloting the Avenger well for a change.”

He pouted in mock-hurt. “I don’t see anybody else stepping up to fly this thing, save the autopilot. Maybe if you wanted to try, I could teach you.”

“John, we do not need  _ two _ people throwing this thing over trees.”

“Oh, come on, it can’t be  _ that _ bad.”

“The last time you evaded a UFO, you gave Tygan’s whole lab an ‘emergency restructuring.’”

“Look, anything goes when we’re dodging those things, alright?”

She gave a real chuckle, her hand sliding off of his shoulder. “Oh, I love giving you hell. Makes up for a lot of things.”

His smile slightly withered. “Hopefully I don’t make it too much to cover.”

The Commander patted his hand. “You’re good, Bradford, and don’t forget it. For as much hell as I give you, you never give me too much to complain about.”

He took it as a sign to release her shoulder, nodding. “Glad to hear it, Commander.” He gave a slightly awkward cough, looking the other way. “I shouldn’t keep you any longer. I’ve got soldiers to round up and you’ve got a Chosen to talk to, from the sounds of it. By the way...” He looked back at her, back to being professional and serious. “I may not know all of the story, but if you need any help getting the soldiers used to the idea of having a Chosen on the team... I’ll back you up, Commander.”

Bradford could see Eliza visibly relax, turning towards the door. “Thank you, Bradford. It means a lot to me. I’ll tell you if I need anything, alright?”

“Always a pleasure.” He nodded towards her, moving back to the Geoscape. “Good luck, Commander.”

She nodded back, walking out. It was a little over 24 hours now, but she was sure that the Hunter would make it.

_ In a cell where you gave him nothing to do for 24 hours. _

Well, he  _ is _ a prisoner, she figures. She was a “hopeless sympathetic,” yes, but even then she wasn’t about to install a TV in there or something like that. Had to express  _ some _ hardness, at the end of the day.

She chuckled. Maybe if she did torture, she would. From what she heard about ADVENT’s daytime comedies, they were practically infringing on the Geneva Convention. 

Eventually, the Commander rounded a corner and ended up in the Chosen Holding Cells. A few more floor panels were in place, compared to last time, but there didn’t seem to be any other changes outside of that. The engineers weren’t even there, most likely having taken a break. Noting that, she picked up the remote and slipped over to the Hunter’s door.

She paused just in front of it, then leaned over to activate the video feed into the cell. The angle seemed to be from one of the top corners of the room, the left one closest to the door, the shot being wide enough to capture essentially all of the room. In the corner sat the Hunter, hunched over a bit, largely unmoving. That was mildly concerning. The Commander opened the cell door and stepped in.

The Hunter remained in his position, not moving a muscle at Eliza’s incursion. She crossed her arms, trying to gauge what was going on. This didn’t bode too well. “Hey.”

“Oh, Commander... didn’t see you there.” His voice was flat, and it sounded like he was half-heartedly trying for his eternally-teasing tone, but not quite making it. “My bad.” Even when he was done talking, he didn’t move. The Hunter seemed determined to stare down the wall.

Eliza sat down behind him, setting the remote at her side, studying his back. She was wondering how to approach this. Clearly something had happened between meetings—whether that be someone visiting him in the cell when they weren’t supposed to, or simply the Hunter being given time to muse over his own feelings, and find them wanting. 

Whatever the case, she took long enough thinking that the Hunter felt compelled to fill the silence. “Y’know, I’m thinking that mutual silent treatments don’t really work. Seems like a lot of effort for no payoff.”

The Commander didn’t respond to that. She was still busy thinking, almost sinking into the mood that the Hunter was in. For him to be openly sullen like this without being hostile...

Just as she thought that, he twisted around, just enough to side-eye her, giving her a hard stare. “What’s up with you.”

She closed her eyes, half to gather her thoughts, half to avoid the look she was getting. Eliza took in a calm, deep breath. “Everyone keeps asking why I bothered to take you in alive.” She opened her eyes, greeted by the Hunter raising an eyebrow, his gaze softening a bit. 

“Come to think of it, I’ve been meaning to ask the same thing.”

Commander O’Leary took another moment to think. Her mind was on a very  _ sensitive _ subject, like it had been when she originally thought of the plan to capture him in the first place. Approaching that could very well be opening a can of worms, but she needed to clear the air on it eventually. “‘Have you ever wanted to die?’” She did her best to mimic the very inflection the Hunter used that day, right before he pulled the trigger.

The effect was immediate. He seemed to freeze in place, his eyes darting away from her. Looks like he wasn’t expecting it. Maybe it was the exact thing he was thinking on. After a bit, he recovered, but didn’t meet her eyes, remaining fixed on something else. “So. You do remember.” His voice was low, but no longer flat.

She nodded. “That’s why. Those questions you asked got me thinking... more recently, anyway. Wasn’t much time to do individual thought when I was directing all of ADVENT’s forces.” She rubs the back of her neck, sighing. “My idea on it was that you’ve been with the Elders. You know how they are, you know how they  _ punish. _ You know how they  _ manipulate _ . Nobody else can really grasp it without having gone through it.”

The Hunter looked back to her, his face turning hard again. He fully turned around to face her. “I get it. The mighty Commander wants to throw herself a pity party, because woe is her.”

She leaned forward, face set. That wasn’t what she intended at all, but how to say that without looking like it was what she meant? Her eyes flitted downwards and the Commander shook her head while she searched for adequate words.

“No?” He sounded incredulous, but he continued. “What is it then, Eliza? Why bother? Why pick me up when I’m basically nothing good?”

“That’s it. That’s it right there.” The Commander looks back up at him, eyes soft. “You think you’re nothing good, which is far from the truth. I’m always questioning if things would really be just easier if I turned myself over to ADVENT. The Elders broke us. If I were going to be throwing a pity party, if anything else, it’d be for you guys.” She sat back up, her mouth in a thin line. “When was the last time you felt genuinely loved?”

The Hunter answered so smoothly and easily that it scared her. “Never.”

“Then that’s my point. I want you to have a second shot at this. A second shot at being appreciated, cared for,  _ wanted. _ If you fought for me, you’d get the action you wanted  _ without _ having to play at the whims of the Elders. To have someone in charge who  _ cares _ what happens to you.” She chuckled a bit, despite herself. “I’m sure you’d make them angry with it.”

He stared at her a bit longer, seemingly deep in thought. His eyes flitted a bit, as if inspecting her—which, given his modified eyesight, he probably was. “What’s the catch. Gonna shove a modified chip in my brain? Put a bomb collar on me? Kill me when I’ve outlived my use?”

“No catches or strings attached, other than just having to follow orders.”

Mordenna leaned back against the wall. He was still studying her, but his gaze had softened. He was tense, like he was on the edge of being able to relax. “Just tell me. No dancing around it, no trying to sucker me in; what’s your goal?”

She sighs. Mordenna was, rightfully, hard to convince. She wasn’t aware of everything the Elders did to him, since most of her time was taken up doing simulations and calculating things for them, but she knew there was a damn good reason he wasn’t buying it. “I’ll be honest, then. I’m a bleeding heart for people who have suffered like me. And you... you never deserved what you’ve gone though. None of you did. My goal is just to right some wrongs, to let you know that love  _ isn’t like that. _ ” Eliza laughs half-heartedly. “I suppose an underlying reason is yet another way to tell the Elders to shove it, but it’s just a happy side-effect. In the end, it’s up to you.”

He tilts his head slightly. His eyes hadn’t left her once as she was speaking. She felt like he was reading her like a book, catching even the most minute thing she did. No wonder so many of her soldiers cracked when he was “asking” information. After a bit, his shoulders slump. “You never did answer me.”

She blinked. At her confused silence, he continued. “You never did. I asked you a question. ‘Have you ever wanted to die?’ I never got your response. Answer me, and I’ll think about it.”

The Commander looked him dead in the eye, hoping he could see she was telling the whole truth. “Yes.”

“When.”

She faltered a bit. Didn’t want to talk about it too much. “You know when.”

“ _ When. _ ” He had a determined look in his eye—he wasn’t going to budge until she answered.

“Whenever I was a subject to the Elder’s  _ false love _ ,” she started, dropping eye contact. “Whenever I saw you guys getting  _ punished _ and there was nothing I could do.” She runs a hand through her hair, her fingers shaking a bit as Eliza recounted what she knew from what was muddled. “I  _ saw _ everything. I  _ knew _ everything. The Elders might have had me all tied up and unable to speak out against them but do you know what? I was  _ fully aware _ . I couldn’t do  _ anything. _ ” The hand in her hair stopped, gripping it at the root. “I just wanted the reason... I just wanted the reason for why I couldn’t do anything to be because I was  _ dead _ .”

The Commander bowed her head, breathing deeply. It wouldn’t do her much good to get so worked up in front of him—or worked up at all. Her emotions could not escape her. She rubbed her scalp after convincing herself to let go of her hair.

A tired, hesitant sigh from the Hunter interrupted her train of thought. “Commander, I thought you said you didn’t do torture.”

That got her to look back up at him. The Hunter had an uncertain frown going on, and she got the feeling that if his hands weren’t behind his back, he’d be crossing his arms. “Here you are, sitting right in front of me, having a breakdown—honestly, were I in a worse state, I’d probably be hating myself right along with you.” He stops, blowing a bit of air out of his nose. “Scratch that, always am, but that’s beside the point. Here you are, having me handcuffed so I can’t even so much as awkwardly pat your shoulder. For shame, Eliza. For shame.”

She stared at him for a solid moment, then gave a noise that was somewhere between a laugh and a strangled sob. She let it continue as a laugh, to at least give the Hunter some credit for holding it together better than she just did. “I... I guess you’re right. I’m sorry.”

He sighs, deflating quite a bit. “... you’re supposed to be funny back, Commander, that’s how this works. Here I am, trying to lighten the mood—”

“You don’t have to. You can be sad.” She took a deep breath, gathering herself, sitting up straighter. “You can think of what’s happened and get angry about it. I know I do.”

The Hunter regarded her a bit more. He was slumped against the wall fully at this point, tiredness etched into the lines in his face. She half-wondered if he had gotten any sleep at all during the 24 hours he asked for. Eventually, Mordenna closed his eyes, taking in a breath. “Well... you drive a hard bargain, Commander. I suppose I don’t really have much of a choice after all that.” He opened his eyes, smirking. “I  _ do _ have one condition upon being freed, though.”

“That being...?”

“I get to slap you. Not even that hard. You said you wouldn’t torture me, and you did! Such a hypocrite, Eliza.” His grin got wider. “How  _ can _ you live with yourself.”

She returned the smile. “Sounds good to me. Deal?”

“Deal.”

The Commander reached for the remote, grabbing it.

“ _ Commander? _ ”

Shen’s voice came the panel on the wall, stopping Eliza in her tracks. “Lily?”

“ _ The Skyranger’s ready to go, and the squad is too. You’re needed down on the deck. _ ”

“Understood. Give me a minute to finish up here.”

After there was a bit of silence, Eliza turned back to Mordenna. He looked... disappointed, just barely, but he shrugged. “Go. Ain’t like you’ll be any less willing after the mission, I hope.”

She nods, grabbing the remote as she gets up. “I promise—a deal  _ is _ a deal.”

The Hunter grinned again, though it was uncharacteristically softer than usual. “Be careful. Promises are deadly things to make.”

“I’ve known plenty of danger, Mordenna.” Eliza turned, tapping the panel on the door. “What’s a little more?”

“Your funeral.”


	6. Understanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Blacksite is investigated and issues become clearer.

“ _ Menace One-Five, I want one last weapons check. _ ”

Bradford’s voice filtered in through the ship, broadcast to the six occupants, plus Firebrand currently flying the Skyranger. The squad lifted up their weapons, inspecting them.

Banel, near the end of the ship, gently turned the barrel of his Beam Cannon with a gloved hand. He was huge—tall, muscled, and a bit stocky—easily dwarfing everyone else. His face was currently obscured by a helmet fashioned in the image of a demon’s head, complete with metal horns. His WAR Suit’s servos gently whirred as he took the Advanced Grenade Launcher off of his back, opening the chamber to make sure it was empty and ready to go. “Baal, reporting all green.”

Kalight was right across from him. His head was also covered by something that looked like a knight’s helmet, with glowing nodes on the front and a bundle of cords on the top that extended quite a ways down. His Templar armor was a polished white, sleeves covering his arms and a fur collar around his neck, framing the thin tubes. He unclipped the mag to his Beam Autopistol, clicking it back into place after a quick inspection. “Vanguard, optimal shape!”

Next to Kalight was Leo. He took the Alien Psi Amp off of his back, gently running his power through it to confirm that it worked. His dyed-black, short mullet reflected the purple light of his powers, and his equally purple eyes caught it well. The correctional lens on his left eye shone in the low light of the Skyranger. His Plasma Rifle was next, checking it out, finding it adequate. “Tomahawk, all clear.”

William leaned back in his chair, already in the middle of adjusting the scope on his Plasma Lance. The three dark brown, thick braids on his head framed his face, falling around the light blue scarf that hid his chin. He unclipped the Powered Shadowkeeper from his Wraith Suit, making sure the safety was on before he checked the barrel. He holstered it, satisfied. “Davy Jones, looking good, feeling better.”

March was in the second-to-last seat. Her black, but greying hair was twisted up into two buns on the sides of her head, kept in place by lace nets. She popped out the mag of her Storm Gun, putting it back before pulling the Fusion Blade off of her back, glancing over the blade. She returned it to its spot in its sleeve. “Dullahan, ready to go.”

Sherry was in the last seat, watching her wife across from her check her firearm before she did with hers. Her Plasma Rifle remained ready and her GREMLIN hovered near her head, softly humming as it floated. “Cherry, fully operational.”

“Squad’s green to deploy, Central!” Firebrand tilted the Skyranger a bit as she leaned into the destination. “We’re coming up on the drop and everyone’s ready to go.”

“ _ Loud and clear, Firebrand. Menace One-Five, you’re cleared for drop. _ ”

The aircraft stabilized, and Firebrand pulled a switch in the cockpit. The interior of the back lit up red, the gate opening while cords unraveled. “Everything looks quiet on the ground for now, guys. Keep it that way for me, alright?”

Will unhooked his seatbelt, giving a short laugh. “Certainly! I’m sure we can put a suppressor on those explosives, eh, Baal?”

The rest of the squad followed suit, but Banel gave him a friendly whack with the back of his hand. “You know what she means, ‘sailor.’ Let’s move.”

With that out of the way, Banel was the first to slide down the cords, out of the Skyranger, making a heavy landing on the ground. Leo was after him, and soon everyone had their feet on the ground as the Skyranger retracted the cords and flew away.

They found themselves in a lightly forested area, right outside of the facility. The trees were skeletal and the ground was an unnatural hue of purple and cyan. Unfamiliar flora grew at their feet. In front of them was the looming facility, definitely belonging to ADVENT, but had no discernable features otherwise.

William made an immediate point of scrabbling up a tree, forgoing his grappling hook in favor of natural dexterity. Once he found a stable branch, he looked down his scope, scouting a bit further. There still seemed to be nothing distinct about the facility. It wasn’t a forge, indeed. Maybe it was just another Avatar research grounds? “Nothing up here, loves.” He swept his scope while the squad gingerly moved forwards.

Banel led the group. Even if he wasn’t wearing the WAR Suit, he could probably lug around his Beam Cannon with little issue. As it stood, he carried it as if it weighed nothing. Still, there was something off about the area that even he could sense. He looked back to Leo, who seemed deep in thought. “Tomahawk?”

Leo looked to him, and then to the facility. “There’s a heavy concentration of psionic power here.  _ Very _ heavy.”

“How heavy?”

Leo looked grave as he stared at the facility. “ADVENT either has a lot of psionic units at this area or  _ he’s _ here.”

Everybody outside of Banel shifted at the implications. Banel himself looked back to the building, seemingly unfazed. “It wouldn’t take the Commander to say that we should stay in range of you, then.”

“Rightfully so.” Leo straightened, gun at the ready. “Still, we mustn’t clump up.”

“Point acknowledged.” He started to move forward, then paused. “Davy Jones? Stop checking out my ass.” Banel said, without so much as turning.

“Hey!” William lowered his rifle, pouting. “I reserve my right to ‘scout!’”

Most of the squad groaned, then moved in step with Banel and Leo. William himself gave a dramatic sigh, pulling up his scope again. What he saw made him jump, then lower his voice and speak on the comms. “Lads, I’m being serious now, there is some  _ heavy _ firepower coming your way!”

The group immediately dropped into cover amongst the trees and rocks, with Banel being the only one to peek his head out to confirm what was approaching. A pair of Priests and a pair of Sectoids rounded the corner, and behind them floated a Gatekeeper, the eye-like apparatus on its front sweeping over the area. Banel calmly sized up the pod before ducking back into cover. “Commander, this is Baal. We’ve got a patrol up ahead. Three aliens, two ADVENT. My plan is to let them get a bit closer before I try to get the Gatekeeper’s armor down while having the rest of the squad fire as they scatter.”

“ _ Good plan, Baal. Keep the Gatekeeper at a distance, however. _ ”

“Roger that.” He hoisted up his gun, casting a glance back. Everyone was getting into their positions, spaced enough that grenades or whatever the Gatekeeper could pull wouldn’t hit all of them. As the aliens got closer, he took the launcher off of his back, loading an Acid Grenade into it. “Wait until I fire.”

“Right on, love.” William smirked, eyeing one of the Sectoids as it drew more and more upon their positions.

When the patrol was just a bit closer, Banel primed his launcher, stepping out of cover far enough to fire it. The pod had little time to react before it landed in their midst, right at the Gatekeeper’s metaphorical feet. The grenade exploded with a hissing bang, and a green compound flew out in controlled bursts, coating the ground and all of the enemy units. It burned the skin of the Sectoids, who desperately tried to brush it off as they pointed out Banel’s position. For the Gatekeeper and Priests, it clung to their armor, quickly eating through it and leaving them more exposed. “Fire,  _ now! _ ”

William wasted no time in firing off a shot at one of the weakened Sectoids, the burst of plasma ripping through it and ending it. He sucked in a breath, already steadying himself for another, but waited for the rest of his teammates to take their shots.

Even as the pod started to scatter, Sherry calmly took aim, capitalizing on one of the open spots the acid had created on the Priests, striking one down with a good shot. Kalight took advantage of the mostly-cleared field, running with confident grace, psi-blades out. Leaping over a rock, his blades found their home in the other Sectoid. As he plunged them in, they reached out for the psionic energy that was plentiful in the alien, adding it to his own, giving a shuddering breath as his body glowed purple.

March took her chance while the noisy din of combat took over, whipping out her Storm Gun and pulling the trigger. The barrage of plasma struck the other Priest head-on, but before one shard of the buckshot could connect and make a killing blow, the Priest wrapped itself in a protective shell of psionics, falling to the ground. March grimaced. “Got one Sustained, over here!”

In the midst of the combat, the battered Gatekeeper slid its gaze over to Kalight, and with an intimidating hum, its burned plates shifted a bit. Kalight turned and raised a shield tempered with the psionic energy he just reaped, just in time for the alien to fire upon him with massive power. The force of the blast was enough to push him to his knees. “S-support requested!”

William cursed, lining up his next shot with the Gatekeeper. “Off of him!” With a kick, his Plasma Lance fired, burrowing into the alien. A bit of its armor still remained, but it was enough to deter it from its current assault.

But, the barrage wasn’t enough to stop it completely. Moving closer to Kalight, its ruined shell opened, revealing the pink innards underneath. Kalight could only watch as the tentacles of its body curled towards him as he recovered from deflecting its first shot.

The whirring of a minigun behind it was enough to give it a moment’s pause, enough of a moment to buy Banel the time his gun needed to start firing, the plasma shredding what remained of the Gatekeeper’s armor. The hail of energy sent orange blood flying.

Beside him, Sherry panicked. “Baal! That Gatekeeper’s too close to—!!”

But it was too late. Enough plasma hit home on it, and the Gatekeeper shook violently, psionic energy coalescing around it. With a mighty roar, it exploded, the back ranks of the squad getting a shockwave thrown over them.

The smoke cleared, and most of the squad looked to Banel. Even with his expressionless helmet, he seemed at ease. Sherry was about to start verbally assaulting him before she looked back to the site of the detonation.

Kalight was enshrouded in psionics, arms raised defensively, and it took him a moment to lower them when he realized he was in the clear. He clutched at his neck, and then the psionics dissipated.

Banel nodded to Leo, who the psionic energy flew to after it came off of Kalight. “Tomahawk, excellent at receiving cues as always.”

March stood up, looking baffled. “You  _ planned _ that?”

“Baal says quite a bit, if you listen.” Leo straightened, but then his eyes settled on the retreating form of the weakened Priest. “Davy Jones!”

William jumped, having watched the whole exchange. “Son of a—!” He hastily took aim, but the shot went wide, allowing the Priest to escape into the facility. He scowled, sliding down from the tree. “It’s gone into the Blacksite proper.”

“Well...” Banel rolled his shoulders. “We were going in there anyway. Commander, we clear to advance?”

“ _ As far as I can see it, yes. Though, try not to give the squad heart attacks next time. I had a few people panic up here thanks to that. _ ”

Banel’s shoulders rose and fell in quiet laughter. “Sorry about that, Commander. I’ll be more vocal about my calls.”

“I’d hope so.” William hopped over a natural barrier, catching up with the group. “I mean, I was watching that whole thing and I still got jumpy.”

Banel shook his head, motioning forwards. Seems the commentary was done for now. The group moved forward, keeping to cover more strictly now that their cover was blown.

Eventually, they got within the grounds of the Blacksite. Sherry’s GREMLIN flew over to a crate and made a chirping noise. The Specialist bent down, inspecting it. “Commander? Are you seeing this clearly?”

Up in the Avenger, the Commander was getting a clear visual of the crate through the GREMLIN. It seemed to be a standard ADVENT crate, save for the symbol on it. The Chosen’s emblem was emblazoned over it. The pit in her stomach that she felt when the mission was being organized just came back. “... I’m seeing it clearly. Keep moving, Menace.”

Sherry stood back up, face twisted in concern. A Chosen facility? Couldn’t be a Stronghold. Even then, those crates could probably belong anywhere. The possibilities went through her mind as she followed her squad further into the compound. 

They came up to one of the backdoors of the facility, Banel taking his place right beside the door. Everyone else took positions in cover right in sight of it as he leaned over, tapping the access pad. He immediately shifted out of the doorway, trusting his squad to spot anything inside. There was a moment of everyone staring at the door. Sherry was the first to slightly lower her gun, but not by much. “Nothing from here, Baal.”

He nodded, daring to stick his head in. From this angle, there wasn’t much to see, but the inside of the building was slightly different to the usual fare. There seemed to be a few monitors around the place, but they were all turned off. Some machines that he couldn’t discern the purpose of were also around the place. What caught his eye was a trail of orange blood that led into and then out of sight. “That Priest is in here, and probably ran to friends. Guns up, move slow.”

The second Banel laid a foot in the grounds of the facility, a voice came on comms that made Leo jump. “ _ I see the foolishness of XCOM knows no bounds. First to oppose the Elders, then to take one of Their children, and now you trespass here? _ ”

Banel calmly hoists his gun, looking forward. “No time for you, wizard. We’ve got a few things to take care of around here.”

“ _ Hmph. It is typical for the Commander’s soldiers to not know where they tread. To stumble unknowingly upon a birthplace of the children of Gods... and to defile it with their presence. _ ”

“What the hell is he on about,” March mused aloud, keeping close to Sherry as they swept the area.

“ _ Commander, the vulgarity of your soldiers knows no bounds. Perhaps if they knew where they were, they would not be so callous—and you would not be so eager to destroy a cradle. _ ”

The rest of the squad looked either confused or disinterested. A few connections fired off in Sherry’s head, concerning old documents she read and of what the Warlock was saying. She eyed the place before she spoke. “Warlock... was this were  _ you _ were created?”

The Warlock’s sneer could practically be heard in audio. “ _ To imply that this was my birthplace would be a disservice to the Elders. My own grounds of creation are much more... suited, to me. This is the grounds of the  _ **_Hunter._ ** _ Even if it would be fitting for his cradle to fall, I will take it upon myself to purge you from holy ground! _ ”

The Commander sucked in a breath. There were memories she could just about pick out from her time in the Network. Some she’d rather forget, but considering that’s largely what happened with a lot of them, she held onto what she could. A few certain  _ details _ about this place was one of them. “Cherry, first of all, excellent deduction. Second of all, you have a mission now. Find a terminal or access point, somewhere you can draw files from. I want everything you can take from this place. Menace One-Five, that includes loose datapads. We’re going to destroy this facility once we’re done with it.”

She turned to Bradford, silently asking for any thoughts. He nodded. “You heard the Commander, clear the place out.”

The squad nodded. The feed showed them walking around one of the corners... straight into a pod. An Officer, an Andromedon, and a few Priests, including the injured one from earlier, looking like its wounds had been partially tended to. Menace One-Five prepared to engage, while the Warlock continued to speak over comms. “ **_Eliza O’Leary_ ** _. A name the Elders treat with reverence. Do you not know that They are pained by your continued struggling? _ ”

Eliza hummed in thought. Talking with the Warlock wasn’t nearly as fun as banter with the Hunter... but she wasn’t one to blow him off. “They probably are, but I don’t imagine they care for my well-being outside of me just being alive, in their grasp.”

The Warlock’s irritated grunt came over comms, and as he spoke, she couldn’t help but feel he was... envious? “ _ The Elders do care, more than even you could imagine. Their sorrow at losing you is immense. Their greatest tactical mind, stolen from Them. _ ”

She scoffed. “Thought Mordenna was supposed to be that. But, considering we took him too...”

“ _ Ah, yes. My sibling. An interesting avenue of thought—I half wonder what sort of horrors you are inflicting upon him. _ ” His voice was passive, more amused than anything else.

“Oh, more pain than you could possibly imagine. Terror of the fourth kind. I’m pretty sure he’s screaming as we speak.” The Commander couldn’t restrain a grin. “We’re making him watch ADVENT’s daytime comedies.”

There was a moment of heavy silence over the radio on the Warlock’s part. Not on the ground—between gunfire and the occasional curse, there was laughing. But, someone’s radio on the ground did pick up something interesting. If the Commander strained her ears, she could hear the sound of distant, stifled, gruff laughter. It stopped quickly, and the Warlock came back on shortly after. “ _ If that’s your humor, then perhaps he’s enjoying himself, much like I thought. _ ”

Bradford heaved a sigh next to her, and the Commander could just barely stop herself from grinning. Barely. “Enjoying himself watching that slag? Please.”

“ _ I suppose if it makes Ref-Il scream in terror, it is good enough for the likes of XCOM—though I doubt any information you will extract will be of use. _ ” He scoffs. “ _ I would praise your ingenuity in rendering him able to be captured if your methods weren’t so barbaric. _ ”

The Commander took a moment to gauge the situation on the ground a bit more. They were dealing with the last of the pod, which was just the shell of the Andromedon, a little too close for comfort to March. She appeared to have the situation handled, however, and a blast from her Storm Gun was enough to shut it down. Leo had taken a hit or two, but was still soldiering on. Everyone else was fine.

On the feed, Banel walked forward, and then turned his head towards something. “ _ Commander, you might want to see this. _ ”

With a bit of dread in her gut, the Commander switched to Banel’s personal feed. His body was turned towards a segment of the room. In that area was more monitors...

As well as an upright tube, with the Chosen logo on it.

Eliza’s hands balled into fists. Already she was getting ghosts of memories, of being still for twenty years, only being vaguely awake, trapped in a nightmare. Guiding troops that were not her own to kill people that  _ were _ her own.

Bradford must’ve seen her react, as he reached over and swapped back to the overhead camera. “Cherry, find that access point.”

“ _ Roger! _ ”

Bradford’s hand slipped from the controls to the Commander’s shoulder. It was a wordless gesture of security. Eliza unwound a bit, taking a deep breath and nodding at him. Having him was one of the luckiest things that happened to her, and she didn’t take it for granted for one second.

Back on the ground, Sherry was looking in the direction Banel was before. The monitors near the tube caught her eye, and all of them were on. One of the patrols must’ve been in the middle of doing something before they arrived. She glanced at her GREMLIN, then motioned for it to fly over. “Get in there, Pepper!”

The GREMLIN chirped, buzzing over to one of the monitors. Before it could get any progress into the terminal, a nearby window burst into fragments as somebody fired upon it. The ammunition was a deep magenta and rang out as it struck the wall around the robot. The GREMLIN beeped out in error and flew back over to Sherry, who knew by the look of the shots who was nearby. “Warlock, incoming!”

Through the broken window, the sight of the Warlock smoothly holstering his Disruption Rifle was clear. He calmly stepped forward, his eyes meeting that of the squad’s. “Does XCOM’s kleptomania know no end? Will your envy not be satisfied until everything that the Elders have endeavored to create lies bastardized in your hands?” He scowled as he started to step through a hole in the wall created by one of Banel’s grenades. “Well then, come.” He held out his gauntlet, and psionics coursed through it, pooling into his palm. “I shall ‘grant’ you all the power your feeble minds can handle.”

Leo was the first to respond, returning the Warlock’s scowl. “The only feeble mind on this battlefield is yours, Jax-Rai! Appearing here and thinking you or your kind can overturn humanity—it almost makes me want to laugh.”

The Warlock’s gaze focused on Leo, and a cruel grin twisted his mouth. “Leo Cerece. It seems that you require multiple lessons in order to learn your place.” His eyes slid over to Kalight, and his sour face returned in force. “The Commander must have known I would be here to defend this place if she is willing to send one of  _ your _ kind here as well. This disrespect will not go—”

The crack of a Plasma Lance interrupted the Warlock, and it was only by good fortune that he was able to dive into cover. When his face came back into view to glower at Moody, a plasma burn along his cheek where the beam grazed him was now adorning his face. William shrugged, starting to step behind better cover himself. “Keep flapping that jaw of yours and I’ll shoot it off, simple.”

Jax-Rai spat out a curse, eyes sweeping over the squad as they hunkered into cover. His eyes settled on March as she ducked where she was, on the fringe of the group from having moved up. His gauntlets glowed and his psionics lanced across his crown as he gathered psi energy into his hands. “ _ Fine. _ I shall grant you no mercy!”

As he finished speaking, he threw it in a bold motion at March. Outside of the ring of Leo’s energy, it hit home right on the mark, wrapping around her head. She convulsed, eyeballs rolling back into her skull. The Warlock was invading her mind, and everytime she tried to shut him out, he breached open another opening in her mental defences, and another, and another...

March hung limp for a moment in her standing position before straightening, looking upon her squadmates with horror. Her body moved unnaturally as she aimed at them, the Warlock’s hold on her established. It was another moment before she practically threw herself over her cover, her limbs moving against her will as she ran from the squad, further from them and closer to the Warlock.

It took all of Sherry’s will to not launch herself forward and try to stop March—and all of her will to not sprint out and go for the Warlock’s throat. But she couldn’t hold back a cry of despair when she caught her wife’s face, wet with tears, eyes wide with fear. March looked like she was feverishly muttering something, but no sound escaped her mouth.

Jax-Rai grinned with open cruelty, further gathering psionic energy onto himself. With a ghastly roar of psionics, he pulled three Priests from his stronghold, all of them immediately moving to cover—though, one of them spotted Leo and practically hissed, grabbing its psi-amp and starting to channel through it.

Leo saw the action and his hand flew to his own but he was far too slow on the draw, and a surge of psionic energy flew at him, encasing him in an airtight shell. The shell was strong enough to prevent anything from harming him, but the psionics were thick enough to stop his movement. There was also the quickly encroaching issue of suffocation. He squeezed his eyes shut and flexed his own mental strength, surging his own psionics against the coffin he was in.

“Oh, how your soldiers succumb, Commander.” Warlock kept to his cover behind the blasted wall, occasionally peeking to check the field. His active psionics were animating his hair, making it flow behind him, twisting as if it had a will of its own. “The crude psionics of your soldiers stand no chance against my own.”

The Commander’s voice came over comms, steady and strong. “ _ Psionic soldiers aren’t all of my arsenal, Jax-Rai. You’ve already got a wound to prove it. _ ”

His confident smirk turned into a scowl, making the plasma burn on his face shift. His psionics were already at work mending it. “I am aware; their abilities simply escape my notice—when they are not performing underhanded tricks.”

“Call it underhanded all you like,” Will retorted, firing off a shot with his sidearm that landed squarely in the gut of one of the Priests. After the shot, he moved up a ladder, going for what little higher ground the facility offered. “I marred that face of yours!”

Banel revved up his Beam Cannon, the ensuing hail of plasma forcing the Priest to Sustain itself, reloading his gun afterwards. He was in front, and gave the Warlock a passive look; that was all the helmet allowed, anyway. “He’ll do it again if you give him the chance.”

Instead of answering, the Warlock turned his gaze towards March, brow knitting as he sent a command. The captive Ranger shakily held up her Storm Gun and fired at Banel. He was still standing, so he took the brunt of the shot, but he only grunted as his armor absorbed most of the blow. “... gonna have to try harder than that to kill me, Dullahan.”

More tears streamed down her face and she managed to shake her head, mouthing “I’m sorry.” The Warlock was keeping her far enough away from Leo for his Solace to save her, and the Priests stood in the way of Sherry running over to her. Sherry’s grip on her gun got shaky and she turned her head towards the Priest that had put Leo in Stasis. She knew she didn’t have a good shot on the Warlock from here but she could see this one clearly. 

She hopped over her cover, dodging gunfire, and got into a better position behind a machine. The ensuing cracks of her Plasma Gun firing matched the noise in her head as she started running through her clip on the Priest. Her first few shots weren’t too accurate but the rest started to line up, and one good beam hit home and killed it.

Warlock cried out in rage as he watched his Priest fall, gathering energy into his gauntlets. “I will not idly sit by and let you slaughter my disciples!” He threw the storm of power forwards towards Sherry...

... and it deflected cleanly off of her head. Leo was closer to her now, the psionics of his Solace having washed over her. The remaining psionics of the now-dead Priest bled off of his form, and he levelled a gaze of tranquil fury at Jax-Rai. “They will  _ continue _ to die, so long as they stay under you.”

Almost offhandedly, Leo gathered his psionics in his clutched psi-amp, throwing the resulting shell over to March. The thick psionics of the Stasis cut off the Warlock’s link to her and she slumped to the ground, holding her breath.

The force of the Warlock’s glare was enough to keep his hair still flowing, electric energy coursing across the horns of his crown. His gaze was locked on Leo, and he wordlessly pulled out his Disruption Rifle via his psionics. Before the PsiOp could dive back into cover, Jax-Rai pulled the trigger, sending a volley of well-aimed shots towards him.

The pinkish shots seemed to shred right through the light purple aura that Leo gave off, the wisp-like tendrils refusing to cross where the bullets flew. They hit home on his shoulder as he turned in an effort to get back into cover, puncturing his armor and bringing forth some blood—by all accounts, a decent, but not career-ending hit.

The real effect the rifle had was shown as Leo screamed out, threatening to ruin his throat with the volume of it. The psionics resting in his psi-amp fizzled out and he dropped it, clutching his head. For him, the bullets were striking  _ everywhere _ , making him feel like he was being ripped apart. He tried to summon his psionics for a Sustain and that only made it  _ worse _ , leaving him collapsing to the floor in agony, blood streaming from his nose.

The Stasis on March blinked out as it happened, leaving her taking in a deep breath and quickly righting herself as everyone recovered, doing a quick hop over her current cover to put herself in a better position against the Warlock and his two remaining Priests. She used her new freedom of mind to perform a gesture that the Commander might approve of in this situation only.

Sherry grinned at seeing her wife back, then got back in her cover. “Baal!”

Banel was visibly the closest anyone had ever seen to “angry.” His hands were shaking and his posture was rigid; he didn’t hesitate to flip a switch on his Beam Cannon, hoisting it up. The barrel spun with a menacing, new hum, and it began spitting out plasma at a high rate. The recoil would’ve bucked the gun out of any lesser human’s hands but Banel kept it terrifyingly steady, guiding it over the standing Priest, eating its cover and gunning it down. He swiftly changed targets, guiding the muzzle of the gun over to the Warlock’s position.

Banel kept the gun trained on him, destroying the wall he was behind and guiding him closer to the squad as Jax-Rai tried to evade. The Warlock—once Banel’s gun ran dry—found himself in a terrible position against Menace One-Five, with little cover to his name.

By the time he gathered his wits and attempted to bring his psionics to bear, he was too late. The remaining members of Menace fired upon him with no mercy; Sherry, March, William, and even Banel after he finished reloading. Jax-Rai cried out under the assault, attempting to shield himself but the constant barrage overloaded his senses, staggering under the hail of plasma, orange blood pouring from his wounds.

When the firing stopped due to spent mags, the Warlock staggered on the spot, clutching his stomach. The gunfire had torn up his armor enough to expose his front, and what was behind his hand certainly wasn’t pretty. His blood seeped at the edges of his mouth and he coughed, bringing more of it up. Jax-Rai opened his mouth to speak, to make some sort of rebuttal.

Sprinting at full tilt, down from one of the balconies, Kalight landed on the ground floor, rolling and using his momentum to launch himself into the air, easily knocking down the Warlock in his weakened state. He sat on his chest, pinning the Warlock’s arms with his knees, and wrapped his hands around Jax’s throat, squeezing.

The Warlock was in no state to fight him off, but he attempted, hands trying to pull at the legs currently keeping him down and feet scrabbling for purchase on the floor, slick with his own blood. He spat it at the Templar’s helmet, to little effect.

The last Priest emerged from its Stasis, grabbing its gun, only to be shot down by Moody, who had an eye on it the whole time. He grimaced watching Kalight choke the life out of the Warlock. “For god’s sake, Vanguard.”

Sherry finished sending her GREMLIN over to Leo to provide what support she could to the downed PsiOp. Making sure the coast was clear, she make her way out of her cover and to her wife, squeezing her hands and wordlessly sharing a moment with March.

Banel lowered his gun. His own opinion on Kalight’s current handling of the situation was... mixed. He glanced up to the balcony he had lept from. Up on one of the columns was an X4 charge.  _ So that’s why he was absent. _

Leo, after getting a spray from the GREMLIN, shakily sat up, Banel coming over to assist with the action. He glared the Warlock’s way, watching him getting strangled for a satisfying moment before rubbing his head, muttering about “the lord of all headaches.” His psi-amp was still dark even as Banel returned it to his back.

The Commander, up the Avenger, had a stony face set on the scene before her. The anger at the Warlock was justified, but to have a reaction like  _ this _ , while cathartic, was bound to send a bad message to anyone who was looking on. She pinched the bridge of her nose with her fingers. “Vanguard.  _ Stop. _ Just kill him and be done with it for god’s sake.”

On the screen, Vanguard paused in his active choke. He then repositioned one of his hands on Jax-Rai’s throat, his other hovering over the Chosen’s head. With a flash, his psi-blade extended, stabbing the Warlock in the forehead. Kalight quickly rolled off the body, just in time for it to be whisked away in a column of purple light. The stain of orange blood on the floor remained.

Lily was at one of the other monitors in the Avenger. She glanced over her shoulder. “We’re getting no other signatures down there, Commander. The coast’s clear.”

Eliza nodded. “X4 charges are already set... Sherry, get back to that access point.”

“ _ Roger. _ ” Sherry motioned her GREMLIN over back to the monitors, where it began the entry sequence again. With her pad, Sherry passed the hack with flying colors, and data began to stream to the Avenger. 

Shen looked over it as they got it, knitting her brow in concern. “Commander... you might want to hear about this.”

Bradford looked to Eliza. Her hands were on the bars again and she was looking down in an effort to not lay eyes on the tube. His mouth settled into a worried line. “Shen, I don’t think now’s the time—”

“It’s alright.” The Commander’s voice was quiet, but firm. She looked to Bradford, then Shen. “Read off what’s in there. I need to know. Everyone does.”

Shen shifted in place, aware that she had just been put on the spot. She turned back to the monitor, tapping some keys to read through the documents they were getting. “... the data here spans about a year. The latter half looks like... field tests? Seems they put the Hunter to work for six months.” She tapped open a particular set of files and worry grew. “A  _ lot _ of work... apparently he was prone to straight up  _ dying _ from the strain of how ragged they were working him, if not fainting.”

The Commander’s grip on the bars tightened, knuckles turning white. They were getting to the part that she could vaguely remember. “And the former half?”

Lily scrolled through, and when she pieced together enough info, she took in a soft breath. “Six months of war games with... the Commander. With you. Cramming in the data you had accumulated over nearly twenty years into six months...”

Bradford went to the Commander’s side, putting a hand on one of hers. It did nothing to deter her grip and her face remained dark. He was starting to see why the Commander wanted to take a risk like she was going to—if that was just the Hunter, it wasn’t hard to imagine what the Assassin or the Warlock had gone through.

An air of nervousness was shared by the staff on the Bridge. Eliza eventually worked her hands off of the bars, standing up fully. “The data we have just acquired is open to access, especially if you have some questions about what I’ve been doing recently.” Her voice still retains a professional air but tiredness was evident. “Good work, Menace One-Five. Call in Firebrand.”

She then turned to Bradford, the two exchanging a glance before he rubbed his mouth, nodding. The Commander walked out of the room, leaving the Bridge behind her.

 

* * *

  
  


There was no time offered in the loving embrace of the Elders for the Warlock.

He awoke on the floor in front of his sarcophagus, gasping for air as the psionics of his reincarnation bled off of him. He propped himself up with a hand, blearily looking around to confirm that he  _ had _ been unceremoniously dumped out of the void.

Jax-Rai rose to his feet, wincing as the slight dizziness of living again hit him. He turned back to his sarcophagus. The Elders had not spoke to him whatsoever. Dread began to eat away at his gut.

Surely They were justified in not speaking to him. He  _ did _ just fail to protect one of Their sacred grounds, so surely this was Their punishment. Silence.

As justified as it may have been, it ate away at him. He almost would have preferred Their anger being expressed directly. At least it could be resolved then... even if it involved...

The Warlock shuddered, the claws of his gauntlets digging into the sides of his armor. No, that was certainly worse. Justified as it may have been, the Elders’ anger was  _ terrifying _ and left such lasting pain that refused to leave his mind. He could not stand to feel that again—the memories were doing a good enough job of reminding him that he must not fail again.

But even as he acknowledged that, his gaze turned back up to the sarcophagus. What if all he had to do was reach out and apologize first? His willingness to make amends was something They were always pleased with.

“Father?”

There was no response. He bowed his head, turning away and giving a shaky sigh. “I’m sorry.”


	7. Reform

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hunter is made an official part of XCOM.

The Hunter paced back and forth in his cell, his mind moving at a million miles an hour. As it was wont to do, really.

First things first was what exactly he’d be _doing_ now that he was basically a part of XCOM. Honestly, he was mostly in it for the fact of pissing the Elders off—it’d be a real riot for them to see him deployed on a mission, shooting at their own wannabe army. He’d take so much _satisfaction_ in actively dismantling whatever they created when he was still with them. Sure, it would be easy to pass it off into something noble, but Mordenna was thinking more of personal revenge. Plus, his siblings would be viable on the shooting range, more so than they were before. It’d be hilarious for one of them to show up on a mission while he was there.

But, then again... there was a part of his genetic makeup that was _screaming_ to gather what info he could, wait until everyone was asleep, then nab the Commander and steal away into the night. Might not even turn up at the Elders’ doorstep with her. He never fancied ruling the Earth, anyway—the most he’d do with it is turn it into a game reserve. Free to hunt as he’d like... though he knew that, with almost everything, he’d grow bored of it.

So what was stopping him? He stopped pacing for a moment as he thought on that fact. “Can’t be honor,” he muttered to himself. He had a habit of narrating his own thoughts when he was alone. Mordenna had been easing into it while he was in his cell. Definitely couldn’t be honor, in any case. The Hunter would swiftly backstab anybody lesser than him if it benefitted him, and it sure as hell _would_ to jailbreak himself.

“... _lesser_ than me,” he deliberates, going over his last thought. Yes, ultimately this contract he was forging was with Eliza, the Commander of XCOM and whatever other titles had been laid upon her when he wasn’t looking. If he _was_ being stopped by something, the fastest thing he’d admit to it being would be that. “Maybe not _equal,_ ” he said, tilting his head, “but... _interesting._ She’s the Commander of XCOM, after all. Tactical genius. So coveted that the Elders wanted her in alive and had three specialized personnel sent after her to capture her—and apparently she’s good enough to turn the tables on at least _one_ of them.”

Interesting, indeed. To be interesting to Mordenna was usually a death sentence... but Eliza was different. Killing her would be fun for a bit—to watch XCOM enter a death spiral without their greatest asset, to see the Elders’ plans crumble, to watch the world burn, essentially. But then that would be _it._ No more Eliza. No more talks. No more debates. Killing her struck him as incredibly short-sighted, and not out of any _morals._

“Fuck, she’s a card,” he said, shrugging. “Would be an awful waste to kill her.” Yep, there was a part of him who wanted to be around Eliza, to have her entertain him like few could. But he didn’t like to think on that part long, because it held some rather _embarrassing_ notions. Yet, as soon as he thought on it, those damn _emotions_ came to the surface. He groaned. “Not this shit again, Mordenna. What the hell?”

Yeah, he thought she was interesting. Hell, he knew her dying wouldn’t be fun. That should be _it_ regarding his feelings on the matter. But that goddamn talk she had with him just messed everything up. He couldn’t process the fact that she _cared_ for him like that. He knew she was privy to a few things that happened while she was in the tank, and that whole six months of info cramming, probably. But Mordenna hadn’t ever accounted for her bringing it up, or for that to be her reaction. For someone else to look at what happened to him and just go “that’s fucked up and that shouldn’t have happened to you?” It was awfully humbling, and the Hunter wasn’t one much for _humble._

... and he would’ve lost that whole talk if him or his siblings brought her in successfully. A quiet thankfulness for what could have been crept up on him and he tried his best to quash it. He was the Hunter. He wasn’t susceptible to the kinds of emotions that blinded humans, was he? _You were human once,_ that part of his mind that was thinking over Eliza tutted, and he was tempted to swear it out of the room. “May have been human once but like any good individual, I got over that.” Yet, wasn’t it that _humanity_ that was interesting about Eliza? He’d never seen her so... emotional. Almost all of his interactions with her were when she was in that tank, under the Elders’ thumb.

He stopped pacing again. “Look, let’s just wrap this whole thing up with ‘I don’t necessarily want Eliza dead,’ alright? It’d be awfully pathetic if we thought on it any further. By god, I’ll think of something else you can grill me over if that’ll shut you up on this topic.”

Mordenna didn’t have to—the panel on the wall beeped and he turned towards the door as it opened. Speak of the devil! Eliza stepped in, remote in hand as the door slid closed behind her. Instantly, he was studying her. Her posture was a bit tense and the bags under her eyes seemed to have deepened a bit. Hair was a bit more unkempt, too—must’ve been running her fingers through it. But she didn’t look _too_ out of sorts. He judged the mission they went on to be stressful, but successful.

The Hunter grinned. “Commander! I trust the worst hasn’t happened and I’m not doomed to pace this cube forever?”

Eliza’s neutral line of a mouth went more towards a smile, and the Hunter couldn’t help but feel... _accomplished?_ _God, you’re pathetic._ “No, we’ve found no reason to go back on accepting you into XCOM.”

Mordenna nodded at the news, but his curiosity was burning. With the minimal info he had over the mission, he couldn’t speculate over what they were doing. He had to ask. “Excuse me for prying, but you look awfully _stressed,_ Commander. What was that mission you just went on?”

Eliza doesn’t answer immediately. Her thumb runs across the remote in her hands and she glances down for a second. Oh, no. That didn’t bode well. But after a second, she seemed to come to some sort of silent decision. She looked him in the eye as she answered. “Our most recent mission was a trip to the Blacksite, a facility that was being guarded by the Warlock. Upon some contextual information and some speech from him, we discovered that we had happened upon your Ascension facility.”

_Oh._ Damn. As if he needed Eliza caring even more about him... then again. He was still working off of hypothetical knowledge of how much she remembered post-severance. “... how much of all that do you remember, Eliza?”

Eliza runs a hand through her hair. “ _Enough._ Enough to know they were overloading you with everything I had gathered in nearly twenty years’ time.”

That brings about a heavy silence. For the Hunter, the experience was something he really didn’t think on, often. It was one of the few spots where his brain actively repressed the distinct memories. All the tactical knowledge and know-how, he retained, but all he could recall beyond that was just the sheer _stress_ and overloading he went under. Even then it was only _vaguely._ He counted himself lucky... and even then, not as much so. It changed him, even if he didn’t fully remember what happened. Ascension wasn’t pretty.

That final thought stuck out to him... and he felt _compelled_ to share something. Something that he’d been largely keeping to himself, a few files that he was barely able to access even as an administrator on the Network. “... y’know, Liz, you were supposed to be one of us at some point.”

Now _that_ garners Eliza’s attention. She fixed him with an interested stare, wordlessly saying to continue. The Hunter didn’t remember everything about what they wanted to do—all the info he had come across was just in files, and those memories got damaged when he was severed. But he knew enough that some part of him was _repulsed_ at the notion of her becoming a Chosen, and he couldn’t pin a finger on why. “Once the Elders had the three of us under their belt, they apparently turned their sights on you. But, they had to really meter it out. A lot of the planned Ascension required removing you from the Stasis Suit, after all. They _did_ do some prep work beforehand, but...” The knowledge escaped him. It was one of the holes, and he shrugged it off. “Network severance kind of damaged my knowledge there.”

“So,” Eliza said softly, “what happened?”

“Well,” he continued, “they were planning to fully remove you from the Suit and start work, that much was going to happen. Then Gatecrasher happened. The day after was slated for your Ascension to start.” He wanted to gesture using his hands, but he sighed. “You were _this_ close to the point of no return, Commander. _This_ close to becoming, according to your file name, _The Siren._ ”

A quiet horror seemed to overtake Eliza, and her free hand reached for her throat. What an odd gesture. Maybe she had been privy to some of the prep work they had done but hadn’t figured out why it was there. Well, now she knew. “The Siren,” she muttered gently.

“ _Kon-Hur Dessurik,_ to be precise. _Depthssinger._ God knows what they were going to do with you, my knowledge on the file is spotty nowadays.” There _was_ a thing or two Mordenna was holding back... but best to not splay out his knowledge all at once. “So, there’s another Sword of Damocles hanging over your head regarding the Elders capturing you!” He paused. That... actually seemed kind of not funny. “... hate to bring it up, in hindsight.”

Eliza shook her head. “I wasn’t ever planning on returning to the Elders anyway, so that’s just more of an incentive to keep fighting... but, I suppose I should thank you for the knowledge.”

“Of course! You are ever so welcome, Lizzi.” He grinned slyly, bouncing on his heels. “So! Can you release me from these cuffs?”

The Commander smiled and again rose those feelings in Mordenna’s gut. He really wanted that to stop. “Just want to clear a thing or two first, to make sure this goes as smoothly as possible.” She settles her hands in front of her, her free hand grasping her other wrist. “First of all, and I’m sure you know, but this is going to be quite the controversial move on my part, amongst my soldiers and staff. You don’t have the best reputation around here, sadly, so me incorporating you into the crew is going to turn some heads. I will be clearing it with my soldiers before they see you in person, wandering the halls of the Avenger, so there’s no risk of accidents there.”

“Your point being?”

“I want you to be on your best behavior,” she stated simply, “As much as I’m sure you would _love_ to cause even some well-meaning trouble around here, I ask that you lay off of it until everyone’s used to having you around here. Don’t want people fostering resentment over the move. After everybody’s settled with having you here, you can relax a little. But before then? Please keep it together.”

“Oh, me? Cause a little trouble? Eliza, where _are_ you hearing these things?” His tone was innocent but his expression betrayed his joking. “Well, I’ll see what I can do about it.” A nebulous statement. It’d be hard to hold off from even a little mischief, in his mind. Given a ship full of boy scouts and one or two interesting marks? A lot to ask, if you asked him.

“All I ask is for an honest attempt. Second of all, as for right now, you’re going to have to be sharing some space in the Barracks with everyone else, until we figure out a good bed situation for you—”

“Don’t bother,” he cuts her off casually, “Can’t sleep, really. I mean that _physically._ Elders hardwired my brain that it really doesn’t shut off unless you force it to. Psionically, anyway.” He gave her a meaningful look as he said that and she chuckled.

“Alright, suppose that cuts some hassle.” She straightens a bit. “Finally... and I do specifically clear this with you because I value your feelings on the matter, if I can capture your siblings like I have you, I hope to swing them to the side of XCOM as well.”

That gives Mordenna pause. “Why you gotta do this to me, Eliza,” he deadpanned, shaking his head, “The one place where I was sure I’d never have to collaborate with them again and you’re going to corral them in here? You wound me, Lizzi.”

Eliza seems to sober a bit, and the Hunter’s eyesight picks up on how she slouches almost imperceptibly. “My empathy for you extends to them, Mordenna. I want to give them the chance, like I’ve given you. They’ve gone through what you have—granted, with a change or two here and there, but...”

The Hunter grimaces at that. Yeah, when he stopped to think about it—which wasn’t often—he did realize that his siblings also didn’t escape the horrible, horrible parents that were the Elders. They were still with them as they spoke, in fact. If he knew those bastards well enough at all, they probably pinned the blame on the Warlock and the Assassin for his capture. _But,_ a part of his brain reminded him, _the Elders “loved” them much more than they did you. They probably escaped punishment that you would’ve gotten were you in the same situation._ That was all it took to suck most of his potential empathy out for them.

He sighed. “I can say that I’ll try to play well with your boy scouts, but my siblings? No promises.”

“Just don’t kill each other,” Eliza said, “but hopefully? I can help the three of you out.”

“Alright,” Mordenna replied. “Is that it?”

“For right now, yes,” Eliza nodded. “We _did_ manage to recover your weapons, by the way. They’re down in the Workshop and Lily will be holding onto them for a bit while she studies them.”

“ _Lily Shen!_ I almost forgot she was here.” Lily was definitely a person of interest to Mordenna. Quite the brilliant engineer, though he’d never say that without a qualifying statement or two. Sure, he was somewhat miffed about his weapons being taken and studied, but hell, it gave him an excuse to go bother her. “Fine enough by me. _Now_ can you release me from these?”

The Commander nodded and readjusted her grip on the remote, her thumb hitting one of the buttons on it. He could feel the bonds on his wrists loosen enough that he could slip out of them. The shackles on his feet similarly powered down and he quickly took the second to kick them off. Now was his chance, while he was freed. His left hand flew forward, giving Eliza no time to react—

—as it landed across her face, not even hard enough to sting. Eliza looked _stunned_ for a second before the gears in her head turned. She then promptly burst out laughing, an action that made Mordenna smirk. “Well, Liz,” he began, highly amused, “I wasn’t about to pass up on that slap you agreed to.”

Still laughing, but calming down, Eliza shook her head. “Fuck, give me a little warning next time! I straight up forgot about it.”

He shrugged, hands out to his sides. He was kind of glad he could gesture with them now. “That’s on you to remember, Liz. Now, what next?”

Eliza turned and tapped a button on the panel next to the door. It slides open and Mordenna’s mildly surprised to find Bradford on the other side. Already, the man tenses and his eyes shoot to the Hunter’s unbound hands and feet, as if confirming he was free. Oh yeah, Eliza’s best boy scout. He hadn’t expected to see him so soon, and he looked so _tense._ When Eliza moved closer to Bradford, the Hunter moved to the doorway, leaning on one side of it. “Oh hello, Bradford. Nice to see you ‘round here. Seems I’m joining up with your little group of troops.”

Bradford didn’t look too amused, but not shocked, either. “I’m well aware, Hunter.”

Hm. He was somewhat, but not entirely surprised. Mordenna was interested that she had managed to clear with plan with anyone at all, but her XO would probably be in the know. Everyone else? It’d be interesting to see the heads he could turn.

Eliza seemed to note the exchange, but ultimately didn’t comment on it. Instead, she turned to Bradford. “Bradford, we’ve reached a complete agreement. It’s time to let the rest of the crew know.” As she said that, her body language shifted almost imperceptibly—but it stood out to the Hunter’s god-given sight. She tensed just a bit and a few of her wrist muscles from the hand holding the remote stood out. Was she _nervous?_ It was hard to imagine the legendary Commander in such a way. But it didn’t last long. She took in a slightly deeper breath and she slipped back into calm. “Gather the staff and soldiers—anyone who’s not urgently working on something. I’ll be making my address.”

Bradford nodded without hesitation, his eyes flickering over to the panel on the wall. The one near the exit door, specifically. “Understood. I’ll make an announcement to get everyone to the Bridge.”

He couldn’t see it because her back was turned to him, but Mordenna supposed Eliza smiled for the way Bradford seemed to relax a touch more. “I appreciate it, Bradford. After you make the call, could you show him the way to the Workshop? Once everyone’s cleared into the Bridge, of course.” Figures. Even if Bradford was with him, seeing the Hunter loose would probably create more of a stir than she’d like.

Her XO nodded to that too, giving Mordenna one last cautionary glance. Still, he looked uneasy. “If you don’t mind me asking—” He held up a hand, presumably as Eliza was about to cut him off, “and I _know_ you don’t, but should we really let him get at his weapons so soon?”

Oh, Mordenna knew he should keep his mouth shut but comments were flowing out of it faster than he could stop it. “Bradford, why the concern? You act as if I’m some sort of loose cannon that’s looking for an excuse to give someone a new nose piercing.”

At that, Bradford grimaced and looked back to Eliza. She turned so she could look up at the Hunter and give him a bit of a huff, to which he shrugged innocently. “Mordenna here will be getting his weapons _later,_ once he needs them. For now it’s to familiarize him with someone he might want to work in tandem with if he wants to pursue his less _lethal_ hobby.”

Huh! Eliza remembered that he wasn’t just a killing machine. Neat, and also kind of... _something_ that made those feelings rise again and he hated that. So, just neat. “Engineering, eh? You giving me the chance to work with the legendary Lily Shen of all people, Lizzie?” He savored the look he got from Bradford at the nickname. “Why, you are just the gift that keeps on giving. I don’t know why I didn’t try to join up with you sooner.”

She gave a short chuckle, crossing her arms. “Just play nice, alright?”

He scoffed, putting a hand to his chest in mock hurt. “First Bradford, now _you?_ Does this train of accusations never stop? When will you see that I’m just here for the same kind of fun that the rest of you are—slaughtering hundreds in the name of a movement?”

Now that evolved Bradford’s grimace into something more lined with disgust. That, he was fine with. Bradford was a bit beneath him, in his eyes. The biggest boy scout in Eliza’s crew and probably the most blatant. But Eliza remained relaxed and easily fired off her retort. “If it’s fun and games to you, this war will be over faster than I thought. After all, you like the sport of it all.”

Well, Eliza had him pegged, and she didn’t even seem fazed. Just another reminder of why he was going to enjoy his time with XCOM a lot. “I sure do, Commander. But if it makes things go faster, sure, I’ll try to play nice. Try to.”

Bradford shot Eliza one last concerned look before he stepped away to the control panel, tapping a few options on it in succession. Within moments, the AI of the Avenger’s voice filtered over the intercom. “ _All available personnel report to the Bridge. All available personnel, report to the Bridge._ ”

Eliza nodded thankfully. “Alright. The two of you wait for a bit here—I’ve got a whole crowd of people to break some news to.” With that, she strode past Bradford and out of the room, the door closing behind her quietly. That left just Bradford and the Hunter left in the room, and Bradford looked keen on keeping his distance to the loose Chosen.

Still leaning on the door, Mordenna grinned at him, showing off his sharp, pearly whites. Bradford squinted at him in response. It looked like he wanted to fill the silence, as he spoke up. “I’m giving the staff about five minutes to clear up to the Bridge. That should be enough time for everyone to filter in so I can take you down to the Workshop without any interruptions.”

A timer was set off in Mordenna’s head. He’d hold Bradford to those five minutes. Mordenna was _very_ good about keeping track of the time. “I’ll hold you to it, John. You seem awfully calm for someone whose Commander has just admitted a bloodthirsty alien into her ranks.” His arms crossed and he tilted his head up a bit. “You wanted to ask her if it was a good idea or not right there, didn’t you. Probably ‘again,’ for all I know.”

Bradford looked for all of the world like he’d rather be dealing with Mordenna while he was still tried up. Well, they didn’t put a muzzle on him, so he’d have to deal with the Hunter’s tongue regardless. “I’ve listened to the Commander and her reasoning. It’s worth a shot, at the very least. Even if I still have some reservations.” The way he said it, said reservations sounded very justified. Then again, with the person he was currently talking to, they very much were.

“Oh, Eliza’s opinions and thoughts are all well and dandy,” Mordenna followed, waving his statement off, “but I wanna know what’s going on in _your_ head, Central. What do you think of me joining your merry band of ne'er-do-wells? What’s your opinion?” To him, besides being beneath him, Bradford was a parrot on Eliza’s shoulder. Sure, he might’ve brought up the occasional question to make sure Eliza was still thinking straight, but all he ever seemed to do was agree with anything Eliza wanted, in Mordenna’s eyes. Where was the fun in that?

Bradford straightened. “That _is_ my opinion now. The Commander and I have talked at length and she’s shown me her thinking. I wasn’t for you at first. But she convinced me that you’re worth a chance, at least.” Hmm. Well, of course he wouldn’t want Mordenna on at first. The thought would be hard to swallow no matter who you were. Then again, that led the question back around to Eliza—and Eliza had already told the Hunter why she wanted him around. It still felt kinda humbling, which he didn’t like.

“Interesting.” He held out the beginning of that word, almost in sing-song. “You must think awfully highly of her if you’re willing to let her sway your opinion. Then again, it could be just because she’s your superior officer—in a time where law isn’t backing up her position. You humans cling an awful lot to the old world.” He leaned his head against the wall, looking down his nose at Bradford. “My point being, it must be awfully personal between the two of you. What’s she to you?”

At that, Bradford hesitated, and the Hunter could swear he could spot the whole thought process he was going through. He didn’t fancy himself a mind reader, but he could tell an awful lot about what a person was thinking based on every twitch of facial muscle, every glance of their eyes. Bradford looked like he was on the edge of even continuing the conversation, and rightfully so. This was a mindfield and the Hunter was leading him to the biggest ones. _The best move would be to not play,_ a line from Eliza played in his head, and he couldn’t help but agree.

But, eventually, Bradford seemed to come to a decision—and that was to answer the question. “The Commander’s a forward thinker, to me. Always has the future in mind and takes in account everything from the past. Even so, she remembers the people under her command as she moves forward, and spares her thoughts for their wellbeing.” His mouth pressed into an uncertain frown. “Maybe she’s a bit soft for her own good at times, but she always makes good calls, and doesn’t back down from the more ugly decisions.”

Mordenna grinned. What an interesting character summation at the end, there. _Too soft._ The leader of XCOM was _too soft._ It made him wonder if she was always this way. “So, Bradford. You think _I’m_ a good call?”

He sighed at that, eyes flickering towards the door. Their five minutes was nearly up. “We’re going to see about that.

 

* * *

 

“... and he will be considered just as much of a soldier as the rest of you. Granted, there are still boundaries to be set. But I believe that, with time, he will become a valued ally and a force to be reckoned with.”

Eliza was wrapping up her speech to nearly the whole staff of the Avenger, soldiers included. The Bridge was big and held all of them with little difficulty, and Eliza knew how to project her voice so it was heard clearly. She had her audience at rapt, but cautious attention. She wasn’t blind. She could see that there was some nervousness among the faces she was speaking to. Eliza didn’t blame them one bit. Breaking this news wasn’t going to happen to 100% smiling faces—news of this magnitude never did. But there wasn’t outright rioting in the streets, so she counted it as a good thing.

She took barely a second to take in a breath. “I value your questions and opinions, as you know. I’d be glad to hear your questions and concerns, even if they seem obvious.” That last part, she felt was needed. Of course someone was going to want to speak up and say “I don’t like this” or “this seems like a bad idea, Commander.” She was fine with it, questions gave her an opportunity to lay down solid answers on topics she might’ve not covered.

A hand went up, and from her place on top of the Holodeck, Eliza could spot that it belonged to Roland. “Roland, your question?”

“Commander, with all due respect,” he began shortly, fixing her with a hard gaze. His expression was a bit hard to determine past the repurposed Muton mask but she could get a good feel for his mild paranoia. “But this Hunter was one of the Elders’ top lap dogs. Doesn’t he have every advantage of playing along for a bit and then betraying us? Even if not that, we all know how much of—to put it bluntly—a _prick_ he is. What’s to say that behavior won’t continue?”

Eliza nodded as his hand went down, thinking honestly over it. “I’ve talked with him and I’ve had my impressions even _before_ Bradford sprung me from the tank. The Hunter is not the type to please the Elders. He holds a very large amount of resentment towards them and it’s what drove most of his agreement to his defection. He doesn’t have much motivation to betray us for the Elders’ sakes.” As for personal motivation? Far be it from Eliza to make the observation, but Mordenna seemed to be _interested_ in her. In such a manner that killing her was most likely off of his agenda. Couldn’t get much amusement out of a corpse, she figured.

She ran a hand through her hair. “As for behavior, I’m hoping to keep an eye on that and hold him accountable to his actions. I want to make that last part clear, too. This isn’t a ‘he’s here, deal with it’ sort of situation. Things are going to be very touch-and-go regarding all of it. But I have confidence that all of you will handle it in a mature fashion and not give him valid reasons to act out.” Keyword there being _valid._ She knew he might pick something small, but as long as her troops didn’t feed the fire intentionally? It’d make things easier on her. “Is that clear?”

The Commander got a strong “yes Commander” affirmation from the crowd and gave a solid nod. She could see a few people had some excitement to them. After all, this was quite the asset they were going to have on their side, if things went smoothly. But largely, there was a sense of slight unease. Better than it had been before Roland’s questions, though, and she counted his willingness to question her decisions as a good thing.

She clasped her hands behind her back. “If nobody else has questions, you are all free to return to your schedules.” When there was a pause for questions and nobody seemed to have any, the gathered crowd started to disperse. Eliza watched as they filed out, and when about half of them were gone, she descended from her place on the Holodeck. Hopefully that had given enough time to Bradford and Mordenna.

 

* * *

 

The duo of Bradford and Mordenna were just now leaving for the Workshop, thanks to a time extension on Bradford’s part and more probing questions on Mordenna’s part. He had to give Bradford credit, he didn’t crack under the barrage he went under, though after a while his responses started getting more and more clipped. Probably didn’t want to slip so much to him in such a short amount of time. Which, fair. At least Bradford wasn’t stupid. It’d be too easy if he was.

Their tardiness meant that a turn down the hall made them meet up with a group of three soldiers—and Mordenna really didn’t take the time to size them up. He had far more important things on the mind. But, he vaguely registered that, judging on the gear and the _species_ of one of them, that it was a Sharpshooter, a Specialist, and a Skirmisher he was somewhat aware of.

Bradford nodded to them. “Herod, Vlad, Samhien. Embarking on the action?”

The Skirmisher, apparently known as Samhien, nodded chipperly. A bit _too_ chipperly, in the Hunter’s opinion. “Yes, sir. We were all geared up before the Commander called us in for the meeting. We have done our weapon checks and we are fully ready to make the trek to the location Betos specified.”

“Alright,” Bradford nodded, continuing to walk. The soldiers walked with them, presumably going to the same place that they were. Curiosity captured Mordenna and he couldn’t help but ask.

“Now, considering I’m ‘part of the team’ now, you mind if I know what exactly you three are going to be up to?”

The two human soldiers looked at each other uneasily, but the helmetless Skirmisher gave him a warm grin. God, just _looking_ at him gave Mordenna sugar aches. He only could imagine what his sister would feel. “Of course! You are one of us, Eliza said as much. Central, may I explain?”

“... fine, but keep it minimal,” Bradford replied, looking like he was on the edge of saying “no.” But he didn’t, and Samhien continued.

“We are currently going to go scout out the exact location of the Nightmaiden’s stronghold.”

“Interesting! Going to knock on my sister’s front door, are you?” Mordenna grinned, an action that Samhien didn’t seem put off by. “Mind if I join you? I’m already popping by this Workshop to make sure my weapons are in good hands.”

At that, Samhien shook his head. “Sorry, but we are going to be a party of three at max. Any more troops sent with us and we risk increasing our profile as we make the trek. But,” he said, still giving Mordenna that smile, “I would enjoy talking with you when I come back!”

It was interesting to see someone so on-board with him so early on, especially considering it was a Skirmisher he was talking to. It was almost _cute._ “Alright, _Sammy._ Good luck. My sister doesn’t take too kindly to intruders.”

The nickname of “Sammy” made Samhien positively light up, and he nodded appreciatively as they reached a doorway. Sammy took the helmet from under his arm and fixed it on his head, giving Mordenna a thumbs-up. Looks like they were close to their destination.

They all stepped through the door, and Mordenna could definitely see that it was the Workshop. One half of it was engineer tables and equipment, the other, netted-down pallets and crates of supplies. If he knew his ship models correctly, this was the back of the ship—confirmed by the open ramp that led to the outside. The soldiers stepped past the equipment and made their way down the ramp. The Sharpshooter spoke “got a long trip ahead of us” to nobody in the group in particular, to which the Specialist nodded.

But what Mordenna was more interested in was who was standing in the Workshop. It was none other than Lily Shen herself, who spotted the Hunter coming towards her. Her eyes fixed on him, and beneath her hesitation, there was a kind of _excitement._ _Good,_ he thought. “Chief Engineer, huh?”

Lily sighed. He was sure she knew this was going to be a long day.


	8. Incursion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> XCOM scouts the Assassin's Stronghold, and gets more than they bargained for.

In the evening, almost dusk light, the whole world seemed to be at a standstill. The rocky hills held little vegetation to signal a wind was blowing, and only the occasional lifted pebble told that this wasn’t a picture that the Assassin was walking in.

Of course, to an outside observer, there was no one around. Fal-Mai made sure her psionic cloak was tightly wrapped around her shoulders as she lightly stepped from rock, to hill, to ground, and back again as she traversed the terrain. Her footfalls were so light they didn’t even disturb the very dust at her feet. She thought herself one with the Earth itself—it knew her and allowed her undisturbed passage.

As was opposed to her quarry. She could not see them right now—the terrain offered natural cover for those at far distances. But she could hear them as if she was right next to them. Their rough, occasionally uneven footfalls. The stilled breath as they exerted themselves climbing the rocks. Their  _ chatter. _ They kept their volume low but it was still enough to hear.

Fal-Mai knew she would have visitors soon after XCOM and the Skirmishers’ last incursion. She had let them go, then. They didn’t seem keen on sticking around. This time, she was intending to show them what they were in for, should they dare transgress after this.

Soon enough, she was properly upon her prey. She had correctly guessed there were three of them—two XCOM, one Skirmisher. They were far from her base at the present, but it was clear they knew where they were going. She roamed her eyes over them, taking in their details.

Leading the squad was a man—gathered from the voices she heard earlier—covered head to toe in armor. His helmet had two vents to filter air, like a gasmask. One of XCOM’s GREMLINS floated close to him, hovering behind him as he scaled another deeper hill. Her eyes picked out the medkit attachment on it and she supposed this was the medical backup for the crew. A Specialist.

Right behind him was another man, his face visible. A scar ran down his right eye, accenting the light blue of his irises. The color of them further stood out against his dark skin, which was nearly completely black in the vanishing evening light. The rest of his head was covered by a netted, tactical hood, but a finely-woven dreadlock or two peeked out of it. A Plasma Rifle hung from his back and a matching pistol was on his belt, signaling him as a Sharpshooter.

Finally, at the back and having little difficulty with the terrain, was the Skirmisher. One of those despicable “redecorated” Skirmisher helmets covered his face and a cape fanned out from his back, both of them and his armor accented with blue instead of the usual red. His Bullpup was on his belt, and the Assassin noted the Plasma Grenade as well. Brought for her, no doubt. The thought made her gut twist.

The Skirmisher looked up and around as he scaled the next hill, stopping where he was in the conversation. The other two looked back at him and he cleared his throat. “Sorry, sorry... um, what were we talking about?”

“Samhien, I’m not even sure how you lost track.” The Sharpshooter paused at the top of the next hill, taking in his surroundings before continuing. “But, hm. I’m sure it was something about the hike.” Looks like someone wasn’t paying too much attention, themselves.

“Sorry, Herod. I got distracted for a second,” “Samhien” replied. If the Sharpshooter was Herod, then the Assassin could piece together the name of the last one based on the conversations she’d heard leading up to meeting them.  _ Vlad. _ What an odd name. It didn’t strike her as usual, from what she’d heard, which was admittedly little. Still...

“Ah, yeah, distracted by the great big amounts of  _ nothing _ going on around here,” Vlad said, almost biting back with his comment. His accent was heavily... Russian, if some of her ingrained memory and knowledge served correctly, which the Assassin supposed answered the question of his name. “So enrapturing. Breathtaking. Could really lose whole days to it.”

“Cut it,” Herod shortly replied. “Honestly, maybe it is easy to get distracted. Knowing the Assassin, she’s probably breathing down our necks right now.” If only he knew, she mused. Would he—and the rest of them—be as free with speaking if they knew just how accurate that statement was?

Samhien seemed to put some credibility into it, because when he spoke next, his voice was lowered just a touch more. “Right, right... plus, it is almost impossible to keep an eye out for her. If she does not want to be seen...”

“Then she can sit in that damn cloak all day,” Vlad grumbled. “She can’t attack  _ and _ stay in her little safe space. She’s gotta become visible somehow if she wants to stop us. Either she stays silent and we complete the mission, or she shows up and we kick her ass.”

“Vlad, we are a squad of  _ three people. _ ” Herod was proving increasingly to be the voice of reason. He helped Samhien up a climb, though it looked like he didn’t need the help. “If the Assassin shows up, the best we can do is convince her to back off. We’ve got the means to do so.”

Samhien nodded at that, his head still on a swivel. “The Assassin is a practically-minded Chosen. She will not engage in a prolonged confrontation if it proves detrimental. That said, we must strike fast when she does show.”

Herod nodded, and the group lapsed into silence, further scaling the cliffs. It seemed their commentary was done for now, and the Assassin was glad for the quiet. She much preferred the natural ambience of the area, even if it was marred by the sounds they were making now.

She followed behind them, easily hopping up and on hills and inclines they had to trudge up or occasionally climb. The hills built up to higher ground steadily, and whatever natural shrubbery there had been before began to be laced with tinges of purple. Some plants were even beginning to mutate from the presence of Elerium. They were drawing ever closer to her Stronghold. Fal-Mai would not allow them to leave with the information unscathed... even if a part of her wished to let them leave with the information. Killing a small search party would not be a challenge. Fending off XCOM’s strongest squad as they sought her out? Infinitely more rewarding.

But she was not soft of heart. One of them might leave alive to pass on the information—but she could not say the same of the other two. Or even perhaps... two could leave. One could  _ “stay.” _ There was no valuable information to be found from a corpse. Already her eyes trained on Samhien. Of course, she would be drawn to inflicting the most suffering on the Skirmisher. It was in her very DNA. The sight of him almost repulsed her.

Samhien seemed to shudder, but did not comment as the trio scaled the last hill. Two other hills flanked it, slightly taller on one side and considerably taller on the other. It overlooked a natural basin in the landscape—in the valley of which, sat the Assassin’s stronghold. The group seemed taken back a bit by the sight of it, but Herod wasn’t awestruck for long. He unclipped a pad from his belt and held it up. “Well, here we are. Taking a picture, recording coordinates.”

She waited for the picture to be taken and for Herod to record the info. As she did, she stalked closer to Samhien. A cut at the back of the legs would leave him crippled—and XCOM out a soldier.  _ Good. _ The more of them she could put down, the better. She gently unsheathed her sword, readying it. This deserter would know his place. He had his chance. He threw away his life when he denied the embrace of the Elders. Making him suffer would be a  _ treat _ . With admittedly gruesome thoughts rising to the front of her mind, she drew back her blade—

—and Samhien  _ tenses, _ whirling around. That’s enough to make Fal-Mai take a step back to avoid him, and it garners his squad’s attention. Did... did he  _ notice her? _ How did he accomplish that? He seemed to scan the area around her, but remained near her location, as if he knew her general area. Herod fully turned around. “Sammy, what’s up?”

Samhien swallowed thickly, the noise ringing off of the Assassin’s ears. “We are probably...” He began, but swallowed again and shook his head. “ _ We are being watched.  _ I felt a bad omen, just now. A very bad omen.”

“An ‘omen.’ An ‘ _ omen? _ ’” Vlad scoffed. “What, you some sort of  _ prophet _ now? Thought you were a goddamned ADVENT Medic, not one of their Priests.”

“Vlad,  _ shut it. _ Samhien’s always had good hunches, and god knows they’ve saved us a time or two before.” Herod wasn’t having Vlad’s skepticism, it seemed.

“Hunches are  _ hunches  _ and I’m not letting some flimsy  _ feeling _ take us off-track.”

“Gut instinct is more valuable than you think. There’s been times...”

The Assassin stopped focusing on the two’s argument, and she supposed Samhien had, too. The two were locked in a stand-off. Fal-Mai was gauging if he could  _ see _ her or not, or if it had been some sort of sense, as the squad was positing. She raised her sword in a striking position as a test, and Samhien did not respond. Not sight. So what was it? He couldn’t be privy to her thoughts— _ especially _ not now, with the Elders’ gift.

Samhien shifted on his feet, head glancing back towards his two currently-bickering squadmates. Fal-Mai knew that even if he could sense her by some means, right now would be the best time to strike, as his allies were distracted. Perhaps it would make this more of a fight than she had thought. Her eyes narrowed and dropped to his knees again. If not the backs, then the fronts... and simply removing his legs could work, but the blood loss might prove fatal.  _ Not if you usher him to a medic fast enough, _ a thought said, and that was enough for her. She brought her sword back into a proper position, intending to strike. Her blade rushed forward properly, peeling from the veil of her psionics.

In under a second, Samhien’s head snapped to hers, a half-second  _ before _ she began to swing. He jumped back and only the tip of her katana caught the front of his knees—a glancing blow, but the metal the katana was made of cleanly severed his armor. Samhien was quick to ready his weapon, expertly stepping back. “ _ Assassin spotted! _ ”

Vlad exclaimed something she didn’t catch and Herod spat something she definitely  _ did _ but didn’t wish to think over. She was far more concerned with propelling herself into a flip, vaulting over to the highest of the three hills, already hunkering down behind a larger rock. Samhien had done it again! She could not rely on her cloak to aid her against him this fight—but it was no matter. Already she had made sure she had the high ground, which was always a boon. She would make sure that XCOM knew that they were not safe, even if she did not make use of one of her greatest strengths.

She risked looking out for a quick second to confirm their positions. Samhien had stayed where he was at in the valley, electing to use one of the taller rocks as cover. Herod had moved father back onto the second tallest hill, with Vlad a few paces in front of him. Herod noticed her quick peek and she caught the rush of air as his arm reached for his pistol faster than her eyes registered his movement, and she was back in cover by the time a stream of plasma was darting by where her head used to be. A close shot, Fal-Mai would give him that. The Commander sent no slackers.

With that knowledge, she knew she had to keep her exposure short—which meant she could not rely on her eyesight, either. Fine by her; her ears were one of her other greatest strengths, and she would use them accordingly. So she did, closing her eyes. The Assassin could pick out their individual heartbeats, the rubbing of their palms on their weapons... and the close shifting of someone slightly repositioning, and the priming of a  _ grenade. _ Judging by the closeness, it was the Plasma Grenade Samhien brought, and she drew her katana again. Her eyes were still closed as she heard it sail through the air, waiting until the time was just right—then, she stood up. With the flat of her katana, she knocked it out of the air and to the land they had just traversed, putting as much strength into the swing as she could to propel it. The resulting explosion still harshly rang in her ears, but far less than it would’ve if she had just deflected it normally.

The Assassin opened her eyes just in time to spot Vlad making a move up. Him drawing closer was a death sentence, and she was sure to let him know just how much  of one it was. With a graceful, clean motion, she sheathed her katana on her back and then used her momentum and flexibility to transfer the action into pulling out her Arashi. A kick from it and Vlad was sent scrabbling back into cover close by as he screamed out—with a new wounded leg for his efforts.

They were all close together. She needed to end this swiftly, and considering how they were lined up? The answer was obvious. Fal-Mai put her shotgun away and pulled out her blade once more, returning to her crouch and stabbing the tip of it against the earth. The blade hummed with power as it began to draw up the energies latent in the ground, combining with her own as she channeled them through the blade. The purple psionics of the Earth floated up in pieces. The Assassin knew she couldn’t channel long, lest she risk bombardment from any devices she didn’t take into account. This Harbor Wave would be thinner, but no more weaker. Sliding the tip of the blade across the ground, she brought the energies to bear, cloaking the katana in them.

In a fluid motion, she stood and swung her katana towards them, arcing the rampant psionics towards them. She focused her fire on Samhien—and as the wave travelled, it struck Herod in the line, too. Both of them slumped against their cover and gripped their heads, the psionic backlash no doubt coursing across their minds. They would be dazed for a good while as they attempted to recover from the crashing of her power.

She watched as Vlad limped over to Herod, letting him practically drag himself. There seemed to be no thought in his mind for his other companion... it seemed he thought as highly of Skirmishers as she did. Perhaps she was doing him a favor, in his eyes. If she further drove a wedge between him and his allies because the Commander chose to trust a Skirmisher on this mission... then that would be how things went.

This time, she caught a muttered “Samhien” from Herod as he was roused. While she was... dare she say,  _ vindicated _ in Vlad’s apparent distaste for Samhien, she also had to begrudgingly admire Herod’s dedication to him. It would be his downfall, however. Vlad hesitated for a long moment before gesturing to his machine. The Assassin remembered the medkit attached to it and she knew she couldn’t let it reach its destination.

From a slot on her belt, she produced a throwing knife—weighted so that it would travel smoothly in the air, point first. Fal-Mai deftly handled it and then whipped her arm forward as she leaned out. It caught the GREMLIN by its stabilizers and it spiralled out of control, giving distressed beeps as it tumbled to the ground. Not destroyed, but it wasn’t going anywhere.

This was her chance. With two of the squad immobilized and unable to help him, the Assassin vaulted over her cover and landed next to Samhien, who had dropped his weapon in the commotion. She grabbed him and held his weakly struggling form close as her eyes settled on the other two members of his squad.

“Let your Commander know that she is welcome in my Stronghold, if she wishes to test her troops’ strength against me. But if this is how they will perform, my hopes are not high.”

With that, she summoned the psionics she had to bear, and in a column of purple light, she disappeared.

Silence hung in the air. Herod and Vlad were the only two left.

Herod gripped his head. The psionic wave was still taking its toll on him, but he was aware enough to know what just happened. Blearily, he looked into the visor of Vlad’s helmet... then his hands flew to his comrade’s shoulders as he focused his eyes into a stare. “Vlad.  _ Vlad. _ Why  _ me. _ ”

“Why  _ you? _ You’re my fucking squadmate, Herod, did you want me to leave you?”

“ _ That’s not why, _ ” Herod bit back, his hands roughly gripping the other’s armor. He knew prejudice when he saw it. “I’m just a goddamn Sharpshooter. Another face in the crowd. A good shot, maybe, but another  _ soldier. _ You should’ve went for Sammy.”

“What’s  _ he _ got that you don’t? Why do you want me to save some goddamn...” Vlad trailed off. He seemed to realize what he was about to say. Herod glared at him, his mind returning in force.

“‘Pugface,’ Vlad? Is that what you were gonna fucking say?” He shook him, showing his teeth in his frown. “We’d be fucking dead if not for him. Several times over. Several  _ missions _ over. People back at base are going to wonder why their favorite Skirmisher didn’t come home and I’m going to look them in the eye and I’ll have the choice of telling them it was  _ your fault. _ You know how O’Leary takes to people like you.”

Vlad didn’t respond. Herod dropped his hands, swearing under his breath. With his senses came a headache, and by god, the psionics-induced ones were the worst. He drew himself up on the rock, grabbing for his datapad. “We got what we need. I’m taking five to regain my balance and then we’re walking home with our tails between our legs. Maybe I can get Firebrand out here if they haven’t moved yet.”

Vlad continued to be silent. Herod used the rock to ease himself into standing, starting to tap a few things on the datapad. He offered Vlad another look. There were a lot of other things he wanted to say... but at this point, it’d all be just coming around to Vlad’s prejudices and Herod’s belief that he was ultimately expendable. In that way, there was nothing more to be said. He clipped the datapad back onto his belt. “Come on. Get your GREMLIN. We’ve got a long hike ahead of us.”

 

* * *

 

The Assassin finally touched down in front of her Sarcophagus, Samhien still held to her body. The force of the teleport seemed to have amplified the daze her Harbor Wave had inflicted on him and he hung limply in her arm. Fal-Mai saw no problem with that and strode onwards to the pad.

Another teleport and she was in her Stronghold proper. She kept her pace up—best to assume Samhien was going to wake up any moment rather than take her time. The Assassin rounded a corner and waited for a door to slide open. Beyond it was the Cells, rarely used unless the Assassin herself had detained one of XCOM’s or the Resistance’s numbers. Even then, rarely for long. While she was fine with torture, she didn’t want any of them spending long at her own fortress, lest they somehow broke free. It was less potentially messy to ship them off to another of her facilities in short order.

She chose the closest cell and tapped the pad, walking in with her prisoner. Setting him down a little roughly against the far wall, she stepped back. Fal-Mai returned to the thought of how exactly he sensed her. It wasn’t sight, and from what she could tell, he did not possess the Gift. But still, his signature was brighter than most of the Skirmishers she had come into contact with. Little more than a lantern, especially since he was still in some unconscious state. That left one possibility.

As she thought on it, her eyes wandered to his equipment. Best to rob him of it. Thankfully he’d already dropped his gun back in the field, but that left his armor, Ripjack, and any under armor he was potentially wearing. She knelt down and started with his helmet, placing it to the side. He was much like any other Skirmisher—save the circular, ritualistic scars atop his head. She’d noticed many a Skirmisher had them. It seemed they were trying to distance themselves from the circumstances of their creation. The thought of it was... curious, to Fal-Mai. For once, she found herself genuinely wondering, rather than dismissing it. Individuality... something that they could not have, under the Elders? The Elders had made a perfect design. Should they not all be glad they followed it?

She let the thought go. There was no use really thinking over it. Fal-Mai took the dagger out of her katana and worked it under the straps of his armor, leaving him in his under armor. That, she figured, could stay. After collecting his Ripjack, she took his armor and helmet as well, bringing them out of the cell and putting them on one of the tables in the middle of the room. When she walked back in, she caught his fingers slightly twitching—and her ears caught his change in breath. Must’ve been coming to. This was her chance to test out that possibility. She slipped back into her shroud, watching him.

It took a bit, but Samhien’s head lifted and he blinked a few times. His hands sluggishly felt around him, and then felt himself. He looked himself over, squinting. Slowly, realization dawned on his face. Instead of panicking, like she’d seen many do, Samhien slowly drew up his legs, his knees coming to his chest. Then, he hugged them closer with his arms, closing his eyes and resting his head against his legs. A word stuck out at her— _ resigned. _ He seemed resigned to his fate. Normally, Skirmishers that had been caught like this fought. They were angry, furious they had been caught, or at the very least  _ afraid. _ This was a very unique Skirmisher. 

But, unlike the feeling in the pit of her stomach might say, she had no sympathetic thoughts for Skirmishers. They chose their fate, she assured herself. That assurance went right into what she wanted to test. She let herself dwell on that thought—they had the ideal life under the Elders. To serve Them was the noblest destiny of all. To go against that was  _ ungrateful. _ Short-sighted. The audacity of it made her want to forgo holding him as a prisoner at all.

It had the intended effect—as she thought further and her emotions slipped out, Samhien’s head rose. He looked around his cell blearily, but his eyes eventually settled right in front of him. He hugged his legs closer to himself and his mouth settled into a worried frown. “... Nightmaiden,” he murmured, “are you here?”

That was enough for her. She took a breath to clear her thoughts before she dropped her shroud. Samhien didn’t jump, but he did deflate further at the sight of her. She regarded him coldly for a moment before speaking. “How were you able to sense me?” Fal-Mai already had a hunch, but it was best to confirm her notions. If he tried to lie, at least she would know.

Samhien hesitated for a moment, eyes shifting to the side. “I don’t know.” Fal-Mai’s exceptional hearing picked up on the slight lilt of his voice that conveyed nervousness and falsehood. She drew out her sword and pressed the tip of it against his head.

“ _ How. _ ”

He went cross-eyed focusing on the blade, and he swallowed thickly. “I don’t know. Not... not exactly, I don’t. I get...  _ feelings, _ from people. ‘Vibes?’ They are like... auras. I can tell their emotions, a bit. You were... angry. And disgusted.”

She held her blade there for a second more before drawing it back. That must be why his psionics were just slightly better than usual. There were cases of those who had just a slight tendency towards the Gift, only enough for parlor tricks, from what she had occasionally read. Samhien was an...  _ empath. _ His psionics were too weak to read anything else, it seemed.

But the thought process led her back to her cloak. She was used to her emotions potentially affecting the effectiveness of her shroud... but not being read  _ through _ it. It seemed as if she still had more left to learn. “So you truly do not know the nature of your ability?”

Samhien shook his head, withdrawing a bit. “I do not.”

Her head tilted upwards a bit and she took a moment to look over him again. Her free hand gestured upwards. “Stand.”

He fixed her with a somewhat blank stare for a second before complying. Putting his hands on the wall for support, he unsteadily got to his feet, leaning back to keep himself upright. The Assassin still towered over him like this—he barely met her waist. “What is your name,  _ Skirmisher? _ ” She knew one of the names he carried—but not if it was his first or last.

Samhien wouldn’t look at her. His eyes remained elsewhere, but he answered. “Samhien Kai.”

“Samhien Kai. You are  _ only _ alive through my good graces. It would have been far less difficult to kill you where you stood rather than to capture you. I am going to ask you questions, and you are to respond truthfully. If you do not, or if you act out, I will not hesitate to kill you. I have everything to gain from doing so, and nothing to lose. Do you understand?”

Samhien nodded shallowly but quickly, eyes shifting nervously. His fear was evident, and the Assassin relaxed. He’d be easy to get answers out of. “What were you when you were ADVENT?”

“An ADVENT Medic.”

Now, that was interesting. The Assassin consulted the Network for a moment. With both the Commander and the Hunter gone, there was noticeably more time between a query and a response. The two of them were the greatest bits of processing power it had, and with their absence, the Elders had to rely on a Commander proxy. 

The Network eventually returned with an answer—ADVENT Medics were a discontinued line. Their genetics were rare in the fact that they used one of the races the Elders had uplifted that was not suited for combat directly. It was a more pacifistic variety, which suited the short line of the Medics. Samhien was, at the very least, five years old. A standout age for a Skirmisher, short of the one she had been hounding for almost as long as she had existed. Samhien was almost...  _ interesting. _

With that interest, she continued. “Why did you leave the embrace of the Elders?”

Samhien’s eyes flickered about, but he met her eyes for a second before speaking. “I... was, part of a patrol. It was past curfew. Myself and my Stun Lancer guards. We were on the outskirts of the city and there were... ‘teenagers?’ They had been hiding near the edge of the city for some reason. My guards—they  _ brutalized them. _ ” His voice took on some conviction, far different than the meek tone it had just before. “There was no need for their Stun Batons. Excessive shocks would only serve to damage their nervous systems when all they needed was a strong reprimand! Not to  mention the internal bleeding they assuredly caused from the blunt trauma! What use was there in hurting those humans so thoroughly when the shock of seeing us had been enough to make them apologize and try to leave for home? It wasn’t right, Nightmaiden!” 

He finally looked up and met her gaze, eyes firm. But under her own returned stare, he deflated again. “I... pulled them off of the ‘teenagers.’ They wouldn’t accept my reasoning as valid for why I had to stop them. They wanted to turn their aggressiveness on  _ me. _ So I had to... exploit their physiology. A few pressure points, nothing that would seriously harm them. I told the teenagers to run and they did, but I knew my own actions would put me under potential review for ‘reclamation.’ I had no other choice but to flee, myself. I eventually came into contact with the Skirmishers, and...” He trailed to a stop, indicating the end of his story.

Fal-Mai was lost in thought, afterwards. Most Skirmishers had somewhat similar stories. They didn’t want to partake in their usual duties. But, his own story... He didn’t sound like he was lying. Samhien had witnessed brutality and done his part to stop it... and from the sounds of it, the actions of the Stun Lancers  _ had _ been unjust. “Teenagers” were hardly people that required the use of violence to get into line, especially if they had been ADVENT-aligned and simply engaging in foolish activities. For once, she found herself understanding of a Skirmisher’s reason for defection.

But, her understanding did not excuse him. He was merely not as reprehensible as his other allies. The Assassin nodded, satisfied with the answer. Her mind searched elsewhere for questions she could ask—and she happened upon the fate of her brother. Her gaze turned harder before she spoke. “What has XCOM done with the Hunter?”

Samhien’s eyes flickered to her for a second before he shook his head. Her lip curled and she brought the tip of her blade to his throat. It was sharp enough that even the tip was enough to draw a bead of orange blood. He swallowed in fear and it made his throat jump forward enough to bring forth a bit more. “The Banehound is with XCOM.” When she squinted at him, his hands shook. “The Banehound... is  _ with _ XCOM.”

It took her just a moment to pick up on the implication of that stressed word, but when she did, her gut twisted with emotions. Mordenna...  _ defected? _ He was fighting for XCOM now? Some part of her was...  _ thankful. _ He was alive. He wasn’t being interrogated. He was simply  _ defying the Elders as much as he possibly could by siding with the enemy. _ Lest she forget! She scowled, keeping her sword steady. “My  _ brother _ would be better back in the Elders’ care. Whatever the Commander has done to make him cooperate, They have far better intentions for him.”

“You’re lying.”

She scoffed. “The words of a Skirmisher mean nothing—”

“N-no,” he said, ever so slightly shaking his head. “I mean, you’re—you’re lying to  _ yourself. _ ”

Now that was enough to stop the Assassin’s current train of thought, and she stared at him. When she didn’t say anything, Samhien continued. “I-I can get a general f-feel for when someone is lying. Not... it’s not as accurate as my other ability... but if it’s blatant, I can tell easily.”

Her grip on her katana began to shake and she pressed the blade against him just a touch further. Orange blood was starting to slide down his throat and he was doing his best to mold to the wall. “You know  _ not _ of what you speak,  _ betrayer, _ ” she hissed, her gaze drilling holes into him. “The Elders’ love extends even to him as he disrespects Them! Any pain They might inflict upon his return is... purely for the best...”

But even as she said that, the memory that she had been trying to fight down came roaring back, and suddenly her whole body was on fire again and she was squeezing her eyes shut from the sheer  _ pain _ of it all and why couldn’t she have done better, why couldn’t she just done as They asked?

“Fal-Mai...” Samhien’s voice was soft, and brought her out of the memory, revealing she’d shut her eyes in the present, too. She tentatively opened them to see Samhien recovering from wincing, gingerly looking her in the eye. He seemed...  _ concerned. _ The Assassin realized he probably just caught the emotions that had ran through her. “What did they do to you?”

The Assassin took in a deep, shaking breath. Her vision got blurry and she could feel her blade waver for a second.  _ No. _ This would not be a time where she would show weakness,  _ especially _ not to a Skirmisher. Her blade steadies and Fal-Mai glares at him, eyes narrowing. “Do not prey on my emotions,  _ Skirmisher! _ The Elder’s love is all-encompassing!”

“You don’t believe that.”

In response, Fal-Mai quickly draws her blade away and turns it in favor of a right hook, connecting squarely with Samhien’s jaw. The force of it sends him right to the floor, cradling his jaw, orange ichor flowing between his fingers. The Assassin spun on her heel and started striding towards the door. She knew when she would get no further valuable information, not when she let him speak like this. He would be best elsewhere, pitted against his former brothers and sisters. She would like to see him prey on them.

“It doesn’t have to be like this,” she heard behind her. Samhien’s voice was slightly muffled by the forming bruise, it seemed. Despite her better thinking, she stopped in her tracks, the grip on her katana tightening. Killing him right here and now would be so easy. She did indeed say she had everything to gain from doing it, didn’t she? Yet, something stopped her. When she said nothing, Samhien continued. “Eliza was with you, was she not? In her tank? She knows what happened.” The Assassin picked up on the slightest wavering of his voice. From uncertainty or fear, she could not tell. Still, his words made her arms tremble.  _ Eliza... _ “Eliza could help you. Eliza could show you what it’s like to be—”

Before he could speak any further, before could further weaken her with these  _ emotions _ she was fighting off, the Assassin’s hand flies to her belt and then whips a dagger indiscriminately in Samhien’s direction. Samhien’s ensuing cry of pain at least meant it wasn’t immediately fatal. She offered a short glance back. The dagger had embedded in his hand, and he was clutching it, having the sense of mind to not pull it out. Without another word, the Assassin opened the door to his cell and walked out, making sure it was locked behind her.

She stood there for a minute, reflecting on herself. It seemed that her  _ emotions _ hounded her wherever she went. Absence of them at the wrong times was punished. Having them at the wrong times was preyed upon. Was there no proper way for them to exist? Was she doomed to always have this part of herself that others could pick apart and exploit? Her hands tightened themselves into fists and she forced herself to return to the present. Turning around, she tapped the pad next to the door, using one of the commands to summon for medical attention. As much as the Assassin would love to let him deal with the dagger in his hand, she wanted it back. It was a waste to leave it in a Skirmisher, and she would retrieve them when she could.

When that was done, she stalked off in the direction of the entrance to her Inner Sanctum. Killing him would have been best, to just send off the rest of his squad limping home. Perhaps she would gain some info out of this venture when he was sent off, but...  _ meditation. _ What he said could be thought over in meditation. There was no need to skulk around with these thoughts in her head.

With her stride, it wasn’t long before she reached the room with the teleporter in it. But, a thought stopped her in front of the pad. These thoughts she was about to meditate over... of the Elders’ love for her, of why They did the things They did... these were not things she wanted to entertain in front of her sarcophagus, not when They could be so close without her knowledge.

Fal-Mai turned, closing the door to the room. From there, she walked back to being just in front of the pad and settled into her usual meditative position. She let her thoughts return to Samhien’s words and what he meant. Her mind drifted to her brother, and what him joining XCOM truly meant. A surface level guess was that this was his whole plan—to join XCOM, gain their trust, then take the Commander and bring her back to the Elders, effectively taking the rug out from under her and Jax-Rai. But... something deeper said otherwise. There was no threat of the Elders’ kind of punishment with XCOM. He did not have to work with his siblings at XCOM. Maybe, just maybe, he was fighting for them without any true ulterior motives.

She went deeper. Samhien’s words also stuck out at her. He could have been lying, easily, but she thought on it nonetheless. Was she really trying to convince herself about the Elders’ love? It should be absolute, a guarantee. The Assassin shouldn’t even be questioning this. Did she not believe herself? The Elders always had a reason for everything they did. Their words, Their methods, Their  _ punishments... _

Yet she could find no reasoning for the  _ severity. _ She had more plausible reasons for Ref-Il truly fighting for XCOM.

That was enough. The Assassin opened her eyes, taking in a deep breath and sighing it out, standing up. There were other matters to be attended to. Dipping into the Network, she pinged her head Officer. The send time was noticeably longer. The Assassin half-wondered how else the Network was suffering without its two main power sources.

Eventually, the door opened behind her, and Fal-Mai turned to face her Officer, who was already kneeling respectfully. “Nightmaiden. You called for me?”

Fal-Mai nodded. “I have captured one of the Skirmishers aligned with XCOM. He will be seen to shortly regarding an injury or two, but when that is done, I want him moved to a different facility, as usual.”

“Understood, my Chosen.” The Officer rose to stand. “Is there anything else?”

“XCOM will most likely be moving on our territory soon. That Skirmisher was from their last scouting party, and the other two members I allowed to escape. We shall not run from them—prepare our defences. Bring in our numbers. XCOM may come, but they will not be allowed in so easily. That will be all.”

The Officer nodded, turning away and then striding off. That left Fal-Mai to her thoughts once more.

XCOM were going to come. The Commander was going to come for her. Most likely, the Commander would attempt to capture her. Would the Hunter come as well? She had questions, and not as many answers as she would wish for. She let herself slump, eyes dropping to the floor.

Eliza had been there. Maybe, just maybe... she dare not think it so boldly, but maybe capture would present her with new opportunities.


	9. Council

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Elders convene and discuss the problems they face.

In the Void, the closest one could get to stillness was with the ever-present, bass-filled humming of ambiance. It shuddered soft but sure, always a present aura even as nothing occupied this particular stretch. But, the peace would not last.

A chorus of four drones started to rise as beings converged unto the area. One was an orchestra—loud, brash, overdramatic. It was emblematic of crashing thunder and pounding rain, and just as likely to knock you off of your feet. There was glory in it, but pride meant it would never achieve harmony.

The next was soft whispers and cutting staccato. A presence one could almost forget right up until you found a knife in your back. Yet there was enginuity to the blend of sounds, frequencies balanced at just the right wavelength to entertain the mind. But only ever in ways that would make your hairs stand on end.

The third was tonally perfect. Instruments perfectly tuned and never going a microsecond over their notes, percussion hitting just as it needed to. It would be almost a delight to listen to—if that wasn’t all it ever was. Perfection without creativity, and to suggest otherwise would be to have it come down upon you.

The final was a soft and calm tone—only a single instrument, playing lightly. There were no faults to be had with the solo performance, but occasionally it ebbed in ways that grabbed your attention. Each note was thought out and stood on its own. There was no room for harmony, just melody.

These wavelengths gathered like at the points of a cube, stopping once they did. Forms took shape more readily.  _ Four Elders _ . Nothing distinguished them outside of the variations of their presences. In the Void, their forms were idealized, standing tall, as equals.

The solo, calm performance spoke first. “As is regulation for these meetings, we will take attendance of who has arrived, even if this meeting isn’t particularly... planned.” They shook their head. “Nevertheless. Elder Argus, in attendance.”

“Elder Cronus,” boomed the orchestra.

“Elder Odin,” hissed the whispers.

“Elder Helena,” hummed the symphony.

“Very good,” Argus nodded, “All Elders seeing over matters on Planet #2845, otherwise known as  _ Earth _ , are found to be in attendance. The meeting regarding the matters of the stolen Chosen, the Network weakness, and the defection numbers will commence.” They rattled off the subjects smoothly, then looked to the other Elders. “Does anybody have any opening remarks?”

“I would,” Cronus spoke, his focus immediately turning to Odin. “We would not be having this meeting if it was not for the  _ failings _ of Elder Odin. He designed and put so much importance on his Chosen that the Commander would naturally take him. Of course, since he was lauded as one of the  _ batteries _ of our Network, we are now dealing with the fallout of his mistakes!” His volume and his presence rose, and he loomed over Odin. “Not even to  _ mention _ what the Commander must be doing with him right now. She is probably extracting every single bit of knowledge he retains! You would certainly know the volume of that, wouldn’t you, Odin? You  _ insisted _ upon it!”

Odin backed away a bit, but his presence bristled as he met Cronus’s fury. “Lest we forget, we are a  _ united _ force, Cronus. Even if the pretense of the Chosen’s interactions was competition, ultimately they are as siblings and should have been assisting him!” Cronus’s image faltered and Odin pressed on. “Even  _ if _ you are to insist that they should not cooperate, then what of your own ‘child?’ If you have not lauded him as our greatest champion, should he not have the Commander back with us by now?” He scoffed. “Of course not. Those pitiable  _ emotions _ that he felt, along with Helena’s charge, blind them to where the Commander lies.”

Helena huffed indignantly. She would have preferred to not be dragged into this, but she wouldn’t let such a thing go unchallenged when it served to disgrace her. “Yet are we not the ones who had to deal with his childish misbehaving at every turn because you insisted on picking an adult human to contrast Cronus’s choice? Perhaps if you had not merely made your Chosen in response to his, you would have not rushed your choices and left as many design flaws as you have!”

Odin whirled on her. “That’s  _ rich _ coming from you,  _ Helena, _ who crafted her  _ perfect Assassin _ after the two of us were having difficulties instead of attempting to assist us! Claim her perfect all you want—she has failed in the duty you have set for her!”

Before the anger of the trio could reach a fever pitch, Argus forcefully projected themselves as larger. “ _ Elders! _ This arguing will see us reaching no solutions and will only serve to incense us at one another. Do you believe such back-and-forth mudslinging will bring us to a satisfying conclusion?”

The other three Elders quieted, and everybody settled back into their normal projections. There were quiet nods and Argus straightened, clearing their throat. “As I thought. I do not wish to turn this meeting so sour, so we shall proceed with opening remarks closed. Our first matter discussed  _ civilly _ will be the topic of the security of the other Chosen. I know that the Hunter was taken via psionic overload. Sadly, I was not able to be present for the meeting held with the Chosen, so I must inquire—have there been steps taken to secure the other Chosen against this method?”

Helena nodded, speaking calmly. “Yes. My Assassin has been mentally fortified against such assaults of that caliber, and shall not fall prey to such barbaric tactics. Her mind is still privy to  _ discipline, _ however, so that should not be an issue.”

“Understood, and I appreciate your forward thinking. As for the Warlock, I take it he is immune by default to such an assault?” Cronus mutters an affirmation and Argus nods. “Good. However, we mustn’t think that will be the only trick up Eliza’s sleeve.” At the familiarity of her first name, the rest of the Elders stared at them, gaze judging. For that, they withheld their advice on what she could indeed do. “So be vigilant,” they settle on, “and think for yourselves how she might capture your children. Advise them to plan, as well. With that, the issue of the Chosen being captured should be swiftly handled.”

When there was no commentary outside of a few spiteful glances from Odin, Argus continued. “Next on our list is the matter of the weakening Network. Understandably, it has been damaged from the absence of both the Commander and the Hunter, and now is left to operate on a proxy we formed from the precepts we could gather of the Commander. The situation is bleak, but not unsalvageable in my eyes—there can be steps taken to strengthen the proxy until we have secured the Commander once more.”

One of Argus’s arms came from under their cloak and they motioned, summoning a diagram from the aura of the Void. As they spoke, it animated and gave visuals to what they were talking about. “I believe if we temporarily divert a sizeable number of our Codices to start working on the proxy and making its code more efficient, we can alleviate Network strain and increase capacity once again. This would require a bit of our processing power, however, and can only be enacted if we are all in agreement. Unless anyone else has a more efficient idea, I would like to move forward with it immediately.”

There were nods from the assembled Elders, and Argus’s arm returned to under their cloak, the diagram disappearing. “Excellent. I will move forward with my plan as soon as I am allowed. Now, onto defection numbers.”

Argus would have continued, but Cronus scoffed, his signature turning discordant. “If I may interject, I find it absurd that this is a topic whatsoever. Not in the sense that I do not see it as a problem, but I fail to understand  _ why _ it is a problem. We have given them the brightest future they could have the capacity to dream of and yet this is how they repay us?”

“You can’t fault them for not understanding,” Argus followed, “They only see the short term pain and refuse to see it as the necessary evil it is. Excusable, no. Within character? Yes. I understand your confusion, Elder Cronus, but since they will not see, it is why  _ we _ must see to taking countermeasures.”

“If I may?” Helena began, brimming in her presence. Argus nodded to her. “The rate of defections is indeed starting to become a concern. We have seen turncoats in even our most unshakeable units.”

“Ah, yes.” Argus inclined their head. “Most recently, a lone Codex taking the name of ‘Wiki,’ correct?”

“Yes! The no good...” Helena trailed off, shaking her head. “As I was saying. I believe I have a rudimentary, but effective way of decreasing these numbers. We may start imposing  _ quotas _ on our forces. We can require monthly numbers of soldiers ‘reclaimed’ in order to incentivise our forces seeking out traitors in their ranks. Presenting proof of turncoat takedowns would also be sufficient.”

The two Elders aside from Argus seemed uncertain at the idea. Cronus’s signature stilled with feigned disinterest. Meanwhile, Odin’s hummed with barely-disguised spite. “That doesn’t sound like the most waterproof of plans, Helena,” he began, eyeing her through his helmet. “For someone known for her  _ perfectionism, _ you haven’t considered a thing or two. What would we do if they didn’t meet those quotas? We couldn’t slaughter them indiscriminately and we hardly have the time to check over each and every outpost, however you cut it up.”

Helena scoffed, energies turning haughty. “Firstly, we have accumulated enough a presence that when we do hand down this order, they will imagine the repercussions to be far greater in their feeble minds. Secondly, if you have so many problems with my plan, I would like to see you formulate a better one! Enlighten me, Odin, if you have such grand ideas.”

Odin, tellingly, looked to the side, quieting but still remaining malicious. Argus sighed. “It has flaws, yes, but nothing that would break the whole plan in half. I believe it is a good solution... for now. I think the most optimal way forward would be to tighten up the chips, but such a task may take longer than we would like, and we would need a temporary plan in place while it is worked on. The quotas would do nicely. Are there any better plans out of the two of you?”

No response. Helena straightened, superiority bleeding off of her form. Cronus kept quiet, even if he had wished to speak something about her attitude. With Argus backing her, he was outnumbered—and he wasn’t about to rely on Odin for assistance. He saved his anger. He would have an outlet for it yet...

Argus, meanwhile, hummed with satisfaction. “I would call this a satisfactory meeting. We have addressed the problems at hand and found serviceable solutions to all of them. Helena will handle organizing the exact numbers and details of the quotas and I will begin to divest my time into gathering our loyal Codices into strengthening our Commander proxy. Do we have any closing remarks?”

Helena shook her head. Cronus and Odin remained silent. Argus nodded again, their robes starting to fan out as the singular instrument of their signature started to rise in volume. “I hereby declare this meeting adjourned. You are all free to your duties. _ The Empire, Eternal. _ ”

“ _ The Empire, Eternal, _ ” the other three Elders returned, and soon their signatures peaked, and then closed out, leaving the Void back to its low hum.

 

* * *

 

For just the slightest second, the Warlock could  _ feel _ the very Void shift, as if suddenly unbalanced. It drove him off his current line of thinking, and Jax found himself wondering if the Elders had just performed some grand act.

When the Void continued to be undisturbed outside of that, he returned to his meditation. Time had passed and while he had still heard no word from the Elders, he knew it was no reason to stop his search of the Commander. After all, what better way to earn Their good graces again than to find her and bring her back? They would look upon him favorably again... and it was all he wanted. Their love was a tidal wave he could barely fight, and yet he was fine if he drowned in it... but. But was he?

He grimaced and shook his head. Such  _ thoughts  _ were beginning to sneak up on him recently and he wished them gone. Of course Jax took great satisfaction in the Elders’ love! When it was taken away, it was for justified reasons. He had failed, and so it went—he could understand that. He could understand being... punished. Jax’s hands shook. He could... understand seeing the Assassin quiver and shake under the onslaught—

The Warlock immediately shot into standing, hissing as he tried to chase the thought off. It was... it was justified! She had failed as he had! No doubt she had already moved past it and was plotting her next move against XCOM or the Skirmishers. Surely she wasn’t wallowing in the feeling and  _ pain _ of it all...

Before he could stop himself, the Warlock’s feet were marching forward and he was already sending off a message on the Network, summoning his Archbishop. Jax was already justifying the action to himself—they were lead into the punishment because the Hunter had been kidnapped. He was not one for working with his siblings, but if he could escape that by preventing her from being taken? He would avoid punishment and when it came to light that it had been  _ his _ plan in the first place, he was sure the Elders would look upon him favorably.

That’s all it was, he reassured himself. They were siblings in name only. This wasn’t some sort of  _ protective _ instinct rising up in him. He didn’t want to be  _ punished _ again, either. This was merely to see to that end!

As he was busy justifying things to himself, the Ascension Pad activated, and from the column of energy appeared his Archbishop:  _ Saint Maria. _ She was tall, taller than any Priest or human—just a few inches shy of Jax’s height. Her armor was colored as his was, with more gold gilding and hanging sashes, giving her the air of a true Saint. A Priest tailor-made for him, and a symbol of his power. Her genetics were more advanced than other Priests; along with the precious Gatekeeper strain, she also held the unique distinction of having a noticeable amount of  _ Berserker _ DNA in her system, and it showed in her physique.

She did not remain still for long, and approached her Chosen, bowing before him. “Warlock Tessura. To what end do you require me?”

Jax calmed a bit in her presence, allowing him to gather his thoughts. If the Assassin did not want to be found, this plan was as good as delayed until she wanted to be. But, this was the best shot he had, in his mind. “I require you to establish contact with the Assassin’s Stronghold. I wish to speak with her regarding a few matters.”

“Yes, my Chosen,” she affirmed.

But before she could do that, the air around them hummed and vibrated until it reached the power of an orchestra. Jax was nearly knocked off his feet and at the familiarity of the presence, Maria almost instantly dropped into a deeper kneel. Jax followed suit, his heart swelling. He knew who this was. It was his father— _ Cronus! _

“ _ My dear son... I see you are busy. However, I must stop your business for a moment. _ ” His words reverberated in Jax’s mind and he found himself drinking in His presence.

“It is no trouble, Father. I am humbled you would personally visit me. What do you require?”

Cronus hummed a moment, analyzing the two of them. “ _ I must ask you, my son—were you attempting to contact your sister just now? _ ”

Jax nodded without hesitation. He... knew he couldn’t express truly why he had been doing so. Something in his mind screamed about the danger in it. So instead, he went with a tangentially related and still true reason. “Yes, Father. I wished to establish cooperation with my sister so we could pool our strength into capturing the Commander. I believed we would meet our goal faster if we did so.”

Cronus tutted, and the action immediately made Jax’s heart sink. Was... was it not a good idea? Was cooperation not why they had...? “ _ Do you not believe the strength I have given you is enough, Jax-Rai? Do you believe you must make up for your ‘weakness’ by allying with your sister?” _

“No!” Jax immediately said, but flinched at his delivery, lowering his head and withdrawing into himself. “N-no. You have given me all the strength I need. I can accomplish the task on my own, and I mean not to imply you have done me wrong. I was just...” He couldn’t finish.

“ _ My son... Fal-Mai would only serve to hinder you. _ ” Cronus’s signature was one of fatherly concern. “ _ She is young! She would only dismantle your plans with her naivety. She is not as experienced as you are with a duty of the caliber, and she would only serve to slow you down. _ ”

Beside him, he could feel Maria twitch, but for what reason, he could not discern. Jax kept his own thoughts on hold as Cronus was so close.

“ _ Do not cooperate with her. That is all. _ ” With that, His signature lifted, and Cronus was gone as soon as He came. The brevity of His visit left Jax wavering on his feet as he rose into standing. He didn’t even get a chance to ask if he had been doing well, and Cronus did not seem pleased nor angered at him. He had only been here to dissuade him from working with his sister. Dread still gripped his heart... but he would not disobey Him. Not when it would assuredly bring punishment—and perhaps even punishment unto Fal-Mai for being a part of his plans. He shuddered, shaking his head. He would not have that, though he dare not think why. He will simply have to plan on his own.

Jax could feel Maria’s stare burning into him, and he opened his eyes to meet it. Her look was one of concern, and she took a single step closer. Before she could speak, he held up his hand. “If you had established any contact with the Assassin, I want it terminated. It has been made clear I am not to cooperate with her. I have... other plans, that do not involve her.”

“I understand, my Chosen,” she returned, standing up to full height. “No contact has been made.” She hesitated, and then placed a hand on his shoulder. “My Chosen... are you alright?”

Jax said nothing for a while. He offered Maria a glance before his gaze turned to his Ascension Pad. “Irrelevant,” was the word that finally came out, muttered without conviction. He began to walk forwards, leaving Maria behind as he lumbered to the pad. His thoughts remained somewhat related to her. After his losses in his last battle, he could not, would not summon her or any more of her sisters to battle. He could not stand to lose another—XCOM did not understand who they were slaughtering on their quest to see the world burn around them.

But Jax... Jax had a choice, here. He could directly make sure that they did not perish on the field of battle. Their talents... their creativity, their crafts when left to them, were far too precious to be squandered in death. He could call it “reinforcing his Stronghold.” Yes, that would do. He could keep the Priests from battle. The Warlock could simply summon his other guard to his aid; perhaps not even that, in hindsight. Did he not have his own spectral army he could summon if pressed? They were free to die.  _ He _ was free to die a thousand times and more. He could wage this war against XCOM without losing important... assets. Just assets. Nothing more.

He stopped on the pad, half turning back to Maria. “If XCOM wishes to blindly raid our most sacred sites, I will see to it that they will get more than what they are wishing for.”

With that, the pad activated, and Jax disappeared in a column of purple light.


	10. Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hunter is sent out on his first mission for XCOM.

Mordenna, naturally, found himself walking back towards the Workshop.

Truth be told, there wasn’t many other places he conceivably lurk that interested him. He’d had his time to introduce himself to the soldiers over the past week or so, and hell, he was playing nice for now. Which meant that said soldiers were no fun at all if he couldn’t get a little rough with them. So it stood to reason that there were only two people on this ship that caught his interest in this sort of scenario—Eliza, who had been busy, and Lily Shen, who he was going to go see.

Wasn’t like the trip took him long at all, anyway. Being ridiculously tall lent to his strides. He opened the door to the Workshop and ducked under the low doorframe. “Shen, dearest of all the Avenger goons,” he called out as soon as he came in, “Like a plague upon your house, I descend upon you once again.”

“You’ve got one thing right there, at least,” Lily replied, looking up from her work. Said work was SYN’s new leg—a quick glance over at the deactivated SYN himself told the Hunter that this was the last part in the process before the robot was fixed entirely. Satisfied with the damage he’d done, Mordenna sauntered more forwards.

“A new blunt weapon for the sword-slingers, Lily? My, my, you always continue to impress.”

She scoffed, continuing at her task. “Y’know, it’s thanks to you that I have to fix this in the first place. The caliber of the bullets you use is, quite frankly,  _ ridiculous. _ ”

“I take pride in my work, thank you.” Mordenna grinned. “Hell, you’d be surprised how necessary it is, sometimes. No greater intimidation tactic than seeing your buddy’s head disappear into a fine red mist right next to you. Maybe not the most  _ subtle _ approach, but when you don’t know where I’m firing from? Hardly have to be.”

Lily’s face barely twitched at the description, but she seemed to latch on to a part of that sentence. “I’m honestly surprised you got the thing so  _ quiet. _ I checked out the barrel and the built-in suppressor you’re using is... something else.”

A part of Mordenna’s brain perked up, one that hardly saw any fun. His engineer side was happy with these accommodations, at least. “I know, right? Took a lot of balancing to get that to work without sacrificing more firepower than I was willing to. Of course, also without making the barrel any longer than it already is. It’d be a little ridiculous if it was taller than  _ me. _ ”

“Dude. That thing is already taller than most  _ humans. _ Heavy to boot.” The Hunter knew that. Apparently, they had to attach the thing to two of the Skyranger’s cables just to lug it up when they went back for his weapons. “What kills me is that you are a  _ stick. _ I’m surprised you can carry it at all.”

“Hey.” Mordenna jabbed a finger at her. “I’m strong enough to lift that tin can over there. The Elders didn’t make a slacker. In some aspects, anyway.” God knows he’d proven to be one to them several times over.  _ Good, _ he thought.

Lily rolled her eyes, setting her tools aside and leaning against the table, giving him her full attention. “So, Hunter. How have you been behaving?”

Mordenna slapped a hand to his chest, pretending to be scandalized. “Why, Lily! I have been on my  _ best _ behavior, thank you! The Avenger loves me. Who wouldn’t want a murderous alien on their side, Shen?” Past his joking, he really had been keeping it together so far. He longed for being able to mess with his siblings, however. Ah, but if the Commander ever put him into the field... a thought struck him and his smile somewhat faltered. “I know Sammy did.”

Lily deflated a little at that, looking to the side. “Yeah... that was some news to break for the two of them. Probably feeling like shit that they had to admit that Sammy got captured on their watch.”

Mordenna shrugged, but some part of him... mourned? Sammy had been one of the ones to accept him with open arms readily. It was weird not meeting such instant hostility, and that part of him seemed to linger on it and his most likely fate. “God knows what’s happening to him. Sister never takes lightly to Skirmishers. He’ll be lucky if he makes it to next week.”

Lily grimaced. “Not the most pleasant subject... Something tells me Sammy will make it, though. He’s survived a while.”

At that, the Hunter decided to not bring up the fact that he was probably being interrogated for information at this very moment. Sammy was a viable target, too—knowledge of XCOM and the Skirmishers? He was a high-value prize. Mordenna went for something more tangential. “Heard one of the bastards got pulled aside. Vlad, was it?” He knew the soldier’s name. Eliza had been rather thorough in using it in the talk she had with him. It was funny how nobody really considered the maintenance vents, but that just meant that Mordenna could use them to move about and keep up to date on what was happening in the ship. “‘Parrently the capture had largely him to blame. Something about going for his human buddy first when Sammy could’ve been saved if he went for him.” The bias of humans never failed to amuse him, especially when the victim of it was  _ Sammy  _ of all people.

Her face twisted into quiet anger and she crossed her arms. “I could’ve accepted it if it had just been bad luck or them getting outmaneuvered, but Vlad throwing Samhien to the wolves? Bastard should get court martialed, or whatever Eliza can pull.”

Well, that had happened to an extent, the Hunter knew. Vlad had been suspended from combat missions until further notice, and Eliza was still figuring out what to do with him, judging from how the talk went. Vlad also owed an apology to Sammy, if he ever made it back. Emphasis on  _ if. _ “Yeah.” Onto the next topic. Mordenna was getting kinda bored regarding this way this one was going. “Honestly, you let me have my guns and set me off into the wilderness, I’d have him back here in three days, tops.”

Lily resolutely shook her head. “Not until the Commander says you can have them back. Even if you could track him down with them, I’m not about to go behind her back.” 

Mordenna sighed dramatically. “Of  _ course _ I can’t have any fun around here.”

As if to fly in the face of that, the intercom on Lily’s terminal pinged right before it spoke. “ _ Lily. _ ” Eliza’s voice filtered through it. “ _ Is Mordenna with you? _ ”

Lily looked mildly surprised by  the development, but shot the Hunter a glance before she spoke. “Yeah, he is. What’s up?”

“ _ Send him to the Armory. _ ” A pause. “ _ And give him his guns. He’s going to need them. _ ”

Mordenna grinned widely. “Oh, Commander, have I been a good boy? Giving me my toys back... you really are the best, you know?”

Eliza scoffed in good humor. “ _ You have, and if you continue being a good boy, you can head out on this mission I’m about to debrief. Get up here quickly. _ ” With that, the terminal went silent.

Lily looked to the Hunter, exasperated. “Alright! Alright. You can have your guns back, just let me get the key to the locker.” Once she was done talking, she rummaged in one of the drawers of her work table, coming up with a key that she tossed to Mordenna. “Here. Try not to kill any of us.”

Mordenna caught it smoothly, still grinning. “Oh, I will try my best, Lily.”

 

* * *

 

With his Darklance slung over his back and his Darkclaw on his hip, the Hunter felt like he was in for some fun, today. The sheer coincidence of the situation wasn’t lost on him, but he didn’t dwell on it much as he made his way to the Armory. There were other things to think on, after all, such as what exactly Eliza had in store for him with his first mission for XCOM.

He got his answer when he entered the room and the gathered people were Eliza, Bradford, and then two soldiers he hadn’t really bothered to remember the names of. One of them was a Templar in white, the other a female Ranger. Figuring he was going to be working closely with the Ranger, he gave her a split-second once-over.

Long brown hair, a green eye with the other one covered by an eyepatch, and a military beret decorated her. She had dark skin and what the Hunter recognized as a plasma burn covered the quarter of her face with an eyepatch. Already she wasn’t very interesting. Just another one of Eliza’s soldiers.

Eliza nodded to him as he entered, and he walked further in. “Hunter,” she began. “Now that you’re all here, Bradford and I can begin debriefing.” When he took to standing next the the Templar in the lineup, she continued. “Menace One-Five, members Kalight, Rozen, and Mordenna. The three of you are gathered here for an important mission. It wasn’t long ago that one of our two Skirmishers, Samhien, was captured while out on a Covert Action. But thanks to a tip from a trusted informant of a nearby Haven, we have reason to believe we’ve found where the Assassin is keeping him.”

A ‘trusted informant,’ hm? That vaguely earned the Hunter’s attention. He wondered what would classify them as ‘trusted’ and why they would be distinguished from the Haven itself. But miraculously he kept silent, and Bradford continued where Eliza left off. “The three of you have been chosen for your abilities at infiltration and protecting high-priority targets. Needless to say, we’re expecting all three of you to do well on this mission.” Mordenna couldn’t help but feel that latter statement was especially pointed at him, but he just gave a lazy grin in response to it.

Eliza nodded to Bradford, then looked to the squad. “As always, I will be backing the three of you. Your mission is simple, but not easy. Infiltrate the compound, find Samhien, and then exfiltrate. Don’t try to attract too much attention and keep the body count to a minimum. We attract enough attention as is.”

Now the Hunter couldn’t help but speak up. “Eliza, are you sending me on a mission and telling me to  _ not _ kill things? You are a very curious Commander, and I must say—”

“Do well on this mission,” she said, holding up a hand, “and I’ll authorize you to be a part of our engineering team, with all the resources that comes with that.”

Mordenna didn’t like being interrupted, but an offer like  _ that _ wasn’t one he’d refuse. His grin settled into something more catlike. “Alright, Lizzie. Consider me on my best behavior.”

Bradford, as always, seemed unsettled by the nicknames, but he didn’t comment on it. He straightened. “Menace One-Five, you are clear to leave. Check your gear, then move out.”

Out of the corners of his eyes, he spotted Kalight and Rozen doing once-overs. Mordenna, himself, didn’t bother. He knew he had everything on him. Why wouldn’t he? Now that he was allowed his guns, they weren’t exactly going to leave his side for a while. Besides, with that lucrative offer from Eliza on the table, he supposed he could do a few tune-ups while he was here.

The other two members of Menace One-Five finished their checks and turned around, stepping onto the platform. Mordenna was soon to follow, and once he was on, it started to lift. The ceiling opened, and the dropped hatch of the Skyranger was waiting for him.

 

* * *

 

The walk-up to the mission area gave the Hunter ample time to his thoughts.

The Skyranger had dropped them a fair distance away, in the interest of not raising attention to Menace. Which meant that they had a long walk through the woods to do, but personally, the Hunter relished in it. It reminded him of the many long treks he’d do to track targets and take them down.

The other two members of his squad walked ahead of him, more focused on the mission than any idle chit-chat. Occasionally, Mordenna would watch them walk and scrutinize their gaits, how exactly they stepped around and climbed over the occasional log in the path. But they didn’t hold his interest for long before he went back to his thoughts.

Chiefly, he was wondering if his sister would show up if they aroused enough attention. After all, this  _ was _ a prison in her territory, containing a captive that she had just recently gotten her hands on, from a high-risk mission. A fight with his sister while he was on his last life would be exhilarating. After all, there was no fun in the hunt if there either wasn’t effort or risk involved. Plus, the chance to show his sister that he had all the excuses he wanted nowadays to kill her? Good by him. Death was just a slap on the wrist for her, after all...

He narrowed his eyes as his mind jumped to the next avenue of conversation. If Eliza had her way, apparently there’d be a time where the Assassin, too, would be operating on her last life exclusively. The Warlock as well. Working on XCOM’s side too, god forbid if that was going to happen, but if it did... Where was the fun in all of it? He wouldn’t be allowed to kill them anymore, and if there was one thing he was going to miss, it’d be that. God knows they’d have to learn to work with each other, and he almost wanted to laugh at that. Him and the other Chosen, co-operating? Acting like a family?

Some part of him reminded the statistical chances shot up if they weren’t under the eyes of the Elders and it soured the whole joke for him. But yet...

Thankfully, his train of thought was interrupted when his eyes rested on something... unusual. A raven was perched high up in a tree, observing the gathered party. In itself, not usual. But what interested the Hunter was what his god-given sight could perceive. Bleeding off the bird was a distinct psionic aura, enough to indicate it was probably Elerium-irradiated. That happened occasionally when unsecured or broken containers of Elerium got lost to the wild and wildlife set up near them.

His eyes scanned the surrounding area, and they picked up more ravens. A practical omen of them, all irradiated. Some were observing him, the others were focused on the sight of the compound ahead. Mordenna focused ahead and, through the gaps in leaves, caught the sight of one of them perched on a turret, tapping it with its beak. A whole gathering of the things... must’ve been all nesting around the same cache. But for there to be such a large group? A normally-useless tidbit of knowledge in Mordenna’s brain informed him that ravens most often came in pairs, or were solitary. For there to be such group around here... and were those  _ iron talons _ on some of them?

Surely he couldn’t be the only one seeing this. The Hunter moved up to Kalight and tapped him on the back. “Templar. You’re not blind, right? You see all these ravens?”

Kalight and Rozen’s heads inclined upwards, studying the gathered birds. Kalight remained silent while Rozen shrugged. “Yeah, that’s a lot of them. But what’s your point?”

The Templar, on the other hand, kept studying them. “... I see that. The trails leading off of all of them...”

“Exactly.” Mordenna glanced at them again, then pulled out his pistol, aiming it at one of the birds. “Well! Might as well take one back for study.”

As he did, he watched as the bird focused on him... and ruffled its feathers, hopping back in panic, as if it knew what Mordenna intended. Its eyes glowed a shining purple.

“ _ Halt! _ ”

Before the other two could even look at the source of the voice, Mordenna already had his pistol aimed at the source, just a hair’s breadth away from firing. He took his time to analyze the figure he ended up pointing his gun at.

The guy couldn’t have been more than 5’7”. He had white, curly hair, and something in the back of the Hunter’s mind tipped him off to the fact that, by the looks of it, he cut it himself when it got too long. Most of it was pulled back into a ponytail, exposing his ears. A black blindfold covered his eyes, but through the sheer fabric, Mordenna could spot milky white eyes, tinged with purple, currently glowing. He wore a heavy, cotton coat, feathers sticking out of it here and there, custom stitch jobs and patches visible on parts of it. Well-maintained, but noticeable. The Hunter’s sight could pick out the aura of his psionics, and how it vaguely pointed towards every bird in the area... including the one on his shoulder.

Mordenna had seen Elerium-irradiated animals, but rarely nothing quite so mutated as the raven that sat on the man’s shoulder. The  _ thing _ was about as big as a Steller’s eagle, and it was a wonder how this dude was keeping it up on his shoulder. The beak on it was much too sharp for any natural occurrence. Its plumage shone purple wherever the light hit it, and several feathers were elongated and glowing the particular purplish-pink of psionics. Speaking of, psionics bled off of it just as much as they did the bloke it was perched on.

Once the man had been spotted by the whole squad, he gingerly stepped forward, a hand up to show he wasn’t going to try anything. The Hunter kept his gun trained on him still, watching him as he approached. Eventually, he came to a stop. He cocked his head. “... now,” he croaked, sounding every bit like the ravens in the area, “what’s the Chosen Hunter doing with XCOM?”

“Oh, you know,” Mordenna easily rattled back, “killing ADVENT, taking revenge on the Elders, hunting... the usual. What about yourself? The hell are you doing here?”

The man smiled gently. Mordenna’s gun didn’t waver. “I’m the man who sent the tip about where your friend lies. After all, I’ve quite the quarrel with ADVENT myself. Please, let me introduce myself. My name is Edgar.”

Mordenna looked to Edgar, then the gathered ravens, and then back to Edgar. A smirk worked its way onto his face. “Oh, that’s  _ rich. _ Edgar! The fucking ravens! Next thing you’ll be telling me is that the bird on your shoulder’s name is Nevermore!”

Edgar, tellingly, chuckled. “I’m well aware of how cheesy it all is. But this sort of life chose  _ me _ when I stumbled upon Nevermore here and his flock. Isn’t that right, my friend?”

Nevermore readjusted, cocking his head at Mordenna. “... Edgar. It’s a Chosen. Do we trust this?” Mordenna knew that ravens could mimic speech, but for one to ask questions and cast doubt? That Elerium certainly did him favors.

Edgar’s smile faded, and he turned to the Hunter again. “If the legendary Commander of XCOM has captured and turned a Chosen to her cause, and trusted him enough to send him on a rescue mission, I believe we can. Now, what’re your names? We introduced ourselves, after all.”

Finally, Mordenna lowered his gun, shrugging. “Well, you know me. Chosen Hunter, but everybody calls me Mordenna nowadays.”

“Vanguard to you,” Kalight said, and the Hunter got the feeling he was still eyeing the birds behind that helmet.

“Thorn,” Rozen replied, easing up a bit. “Are you going to be joining us for this mission, then?”

“If you will accept my help, of course,” Edgar nodded, then swept his hand out, gesturing to the omen of ravens. “My court are my eyes, as well as my ears. ADVENT do not suspect their presence to be suspect, foolish as they are, and I am well used to sticking to shadows. Not as well as a Reaper, but better than most that are trained to do so.”

“So you’re blind,” Mordenna said simply.

Edgar nodded again. “A gradual condition. I believe my powers brought it on. But I am able to see through my court’s eyes and see what they see, so it isn’t so bad. They are also more than intelligent enough to be excellent scouts, and some are armed in case of a fight. But, with luck, it won’t come to that.”

“With luck.” Kalight turned back towards the path. “We should get going, and not rely on something as ever-changing as  _ luck. _ Commander?”

“ _ He seems like a fine recruit to me. Let him come. _ ”

Kalight’s expression was unreadable, but he looked to Edgar and gestured forward.

Seems Edgar didn’t need to be told twice. Nevermore’s eyes began to glow and he strode forwards, joining Menace. The ravens all around started to move, as well—a few took flight from the trees and settled in various spots in the compound, a few buddying up in an uncannily human way as if to not appear suspicious. Some of them even staggered their approach, as if to not look organized. The last parts of the omen stayed with the group, hopping along on the ground as they moved forwards. All of them were the ones with talons on their feet, Mordenna noted. Whoever this Edgar guy was, he must’ve been at this for quite a while to have them all so organized.

As they came up to the facility, Edgar took the lead, keeping well to cover. Mordenna knew the man was blind, but to see him swivel his head so little as he went was a bit interesting. Granted, he did move it at times, but only ever in response to sounds he could hear.

Mordenna took his own time to scope the place out. A few guards were patrolling, some alone, some in pairs, but largely the security detail was minimal. A shame—he’d been hoping for more of a challenge. He offered a glance or two Edgar’s way as he went, but largely, the Hunter wanted to rely on his own pathfinding to get through.

But even if there had been more bodies around to dodge, it seemed being blind was no challenge for Edgar. Soon the rest of the squad was following his lead, running along behind him as he confidently darted from cover to cover. Occasionally, he’d stop in his tracks, holding up a hand and backing up as a patrol came up right where he was going to be. All the while, his eyes were aglow. No doubt, getting a constant feed from his ravens regarding what was going on.

With the kind of breakneck pace he was setting, it wasn’t long before they were on the building, all staged outside one of the doors. Closed, naturally. Before anyone could say anything, the Hunter snuck up, parking himself right at the pad to open it. But, like a wise predator, didn’t yet. His eyes shifted to Edgar, concocting a plan in a snap. “They’re gonna get suspicious if this door opens on its own. Seemingly, anyway. I’m gonna open it, but mind having one of your birds crash into the pad at about the same time? It’d at least drop most of the suspicion, and unless you’ve been here before, they’ll come to investigate with their guard down.”

Edgar was silent, seemingly considering the plan. This time, Mordenna could pick out the aura around his head growing stronger, and a mote of power being sent out, tracing it to one of the ravens on the ground with them. It paced on the spot for a second, and a mote was sent back. Then, another from Edgar. Seems they were having a conversation, as absurd as it was to watch.

Whatever Edgar last said, it did the trick. The bird hopped back, and then took off. Mordenna watched as it did a slow loop in the air, keeping its speed slow as it came in, aiming for the pad.

Just before it hit home, Mordenna tapped the access button, and jerked his hand back in time for it to brace itself for impact, hitting the pad on the mark and tumbling to the ground, in vision of the opening door. It even offered a convincing squawk of disgruntlement. Other than a few ruffled feathers—which it went at work correcting right in view of whoever was in the building—it was no worse for wear.  _ Too smart for their own good, _ Mordenna thought, and waited.

He caught a bit of ADVENT speak in the building; generally amounting to “what was that?” The Hunter bided his time. Soon, there was a single set of footsteps approaching. He looked to Edgar, and Edgar held up his index finger, using the other to point inside.  _ One guard. _ Mordenna almost chuckled. The Assassin must’ve not thought they’d be coming this early. Her loss.

Mordenna held himself until, in the dim reflection of the doorway, he saw a Trooper nearly on the door. With speed he’d imagine would look terrifying for someone of his size, he lunged forwards, grabbing the Trooper and pulling them close, his arm tight across their throat. Before they could choke out a scream, his other arm went to work, grabbing their head and jerking it far to the side. With some snapping, the guard went limp. Another kill to the pile. The Hunter kept holding the guard, and motioned to move inside, already moving in.

The inside of the building was quiet, with no guards in sight. Just the row of prison doors, and even from this distance, Mordenna could spot that one was occupied. Placing the body in a corner, he skulked up, to the panel with an indicator on it.

Right on time, he heard Eliza in his ear. “ _ That’s the cell with Samhien in it. I assume you know your way around the security, Hunter? _ ”

“You’re asking the  _ former Network admin _ this, Liz? Oh, Commander, Commander...” He chuckled softly, tapping a button on the panel. Already his fingers were at work on it, entering passcodes. If his memory served correctly, and if he was lucky enough that some outposts hadn’t stricken his access codes from the record, yet...

“Hey,” he heard Rozen quietly interject behind him, “aren’t you going to need the data—”

Before she could even finish speaking, the door slid open without any bells or whistles. There was a heavy silence for a second. Then, the sound of Kalight chuckling. “‘Former Network admin,’ Thorn.”

“I’m glad  _ one _ of you is listening.” With that, Mordenna padded into the cell proper.

The inside was standard fare, and wasn’t what Mordenna was looking at. No, what he was interested in was the crumpled form against the wall. Samhien was a shadow of how the Hunter saw him when they first met. He was fitted into the basic prisoner’s outfit, some spots of it stained with orange. Judging by the bleed pattern, the spots were both from wounds underneath and splatters outside. Sammy himself was sporting a few new cuts and burns across his head—and there was a scarring wound on his hand, like something had been stabbed through it. Typical, really.  _ Sister never takes kindly to Skirmishers. _

Sammy’s eyes were closed, but they sluggishly opened, probably in response to the door opening. His unfocused pupils rested on the form of the Hunter... and he broke out into a warm smile. “Hunter Mordenna...” Sammy’s voice was hoarse and quiet. The Hunter could imagine why it was that way. “The Commander sent you on a mission? You must have been doing so well. I wish I had been there to see it...”

At that pride in him, something in the Hunter’s heart throbbed. It hadn’t happened before because he could buy into the fact that it was a gig Sammy did with everyone. Nobody could be  _ that _ nice, constantly. But to see him so low like this, on the tail end of being tortured... and his first thought upon seeing the Chosen Hunter was how  _ proud _ he was...?

Mordenna had been searching for a feeling like this for a long time. Something that penetrated the choking mist that had wrapped around him—and when confronted with it, he had no witty commentary. He simply nodded, stepping further into the cell.

“Hunter,” he heard behind him. It was Kalight. “I can carry him if you need.”

“Nah,” he replied, crouching down and helping Sammy over his shoulders, “I’ve more than got him. I’m certainly strong enough to manage him  _ and _ a gun.” True to his point, the Hunter pulled out his Darkclaw, readying it. He backed out of the cell with Sammy in tow.

He spotted Nevermore’s head angling towards the other door of the building. “... the Court sees company. Two soldiers, coming in through that door.”

At that, a need drilled into the Hunter by his Ascension made his trigger finger itch. One body hadn’t been enough, and as much of a rush as that earlier feeling had been... He was a Hunter. There was no denying his nature. Killing was a short, but satisfying pleasure. Satisfying in the moment, anyhow. He eyed the rest of the squad. “You goons, go clear out a space for our own bird to land. They’re gonna be on alert as soon as they come in here and spot the body and open door, so I might as well eliminate them.”

Edgar’s brows furrowed. “There’s a clear area back the way we just came. We could use that.”

Kalight hesitated, but began to move out. “Fine by me. Follow behind us when you take them out.”

“Ordering a Chosen around, Templar? You’re braver than most.” Still, he noted it, holding up his pistol to the door and sucking in a steadying breath as he heard the rest of the squad traipse out the door. He kept his aim steady, and he waited.

He didn’t have to wait long. As soon as the patrol stepped in, before they had the chance to look to him and become alarmed, two gunshots rang out. Two perfect headshots, but unlike his sniper rifle, his pistol wasn’t exactly silenced. He knew the jig was up now. Mordenna looked outside, spotting Rozen throwing a signal flare and the rest of the squad hunkering down in cover.

Quick as a whip, the Hunter broke free of his own cover in the building, sprinting out into the open. He hopped over one of the barriers defining the end of the facility grounds and took cover behind a large container. Judging by the company outside, they’d heard the gunshots and weren’t exactly fond of it.

“ _ This is Firebrand, _ ” filtered in their ears, “ _ I see the flare. Coming in for evac! _ ”

Kalight held up a tower shield made of psionic energy, deflecting shots from a turret. “Gonna need to take out that turret so it doesn’t eat her up!”

Mordenna waited to hear another volley of shots, to confirm its position. Then, keeping Sammy in cover as he leaned, he calmly took aim. He knew every nook and cranny of those turrets. If this shot hit home...

With another crack from the Darkclaw, it certainly did. Right through the aiming system. Technically, the turret was still active, but it whirred uselessly, unable to get a bead on any of them. “The thing’s useless,” he confirmed, then smirked. “More than usual, anyhow.”

Kalight nodded, getting his Autopistol out and providing covering fire as the security detail of the compound advanced on them. “Alright, Firebrand’s going to be a while. Hold them off!”

Edgar and Nevermore looked to each other, and Nevermore nodded. He hopped off Edgar and spread out his wings, taking to the sky. A few shots flew his way but Mordenna watched as they missed the mutated bird. Psionic energy coalesced around Nevermore’s head, and with a terrifying cry, wicked lances of psionic energy rained from above. Two Troopers and a Shieldbearer couldn’t handle the onslaught and crumpled, reeking of the aftermath of the psionic energy. The rest of the security detail on site—an Officer, a Priest, and a MEC—were buffeted and worn down.

Mordenna figured such a trick was taxing though, and he figured right; Nevermore sailed back with a lot less grace, ending up in Edgar’s arms rather than on his shoulder. “Nevermore’s spent,” he said, “but that should’ve done the trick.”

Rozen fired off a shot, glancing the MEC. “They’ll have more reinforcements soon, but for now? Congratulate your bird for me.”

Edgar chuckled. “You hear that, Nevermore? You did well.”

Nevermore didn’t reply, and remained somewhat slumped in Edgar’s arms. The rest of the omen were converging around them, gathering at their position. The rest of the security would be a joke with a few more shots from his guns, Mordenna figured. Everything would be grand. Boring, but grand.

Until Sammy tensed around his shoulders. It was quiet for a second until he heard the Skirmisher’s low murmur. “The Assassin is here.”

Oh,  _ lovely. _ Perhaps that was the reason for the low security. Well, if Fal-Mai wanted to dance with him, he’d gladly show her up. He edged over to Kalight between gunfire, laying Samhien at his feet. He could hear the roar of the Skyranger on approach behind them. “Here, you can have him now.” Then, his eyes flickered upwards, just long enough to catch a deadly detail.

He pulled his pistol. He could register, out of the corners of his eyes, the squad tensing. After all, he  _ was _ in close proximity to Kalight. He took aim...

... and fired, just above Kalight’s head.

His sister dodged to the side, dropping her cloak as she rolled into cover. “Assassin spotted,” he deadpanned. “The rest of you jokers get on the ship. I think I’m going to spend some  _ quality time _ with the family.”

He heard footsteps as Menace got the idea and backed off, Sammy in tow. The rest of the security detail had been taken down in the time it took for Fal-Mai to show up. It was just him and his sister. He glared at her, and she returned the stare, though he could tell there was... hesitance, behind it. He barely wanted to think on what it meant—but he knew why. She was still immortal and he was not, after all.

He spread out his arms. “Surprised to see me, sister? It’s a lovely gig, working for XCOM. No Elders breathing down my neck, and I get to kill you and Jax anytime you show up!”

Fal-Mai snarled. “Is this your idea of a game, Mordenna? To turn your back on Them and wound Them so?”

“Yes, actually. God, I’d like to see the looks on their faces, come to think of it. Bet they’re  _ smarting _ just seeing this, after all.”

The Assassin’s hand, planted on her cover, tensed up. “You left Jax and I behind. Do you not spare a single thought as to what happened to us when the Elders found out you had been captured?”

He did, in that moment, spare a single thought to it. His grin dropped. “... if they punished you guys because  _ I _ got captured, I think that’s their fault. Not like you could’ve done anything—not like I would’ve  _ let _ you goons do anything. Don’t go blaming me for them being fuckin’ terrible parents.”

She screwed her eyes shut, shaking her head. “The Elders are without fault! They would not—They were justified—”

“They were just angry and wanted to take it out on someone, you gullible fuck!” He spat, gesturing wildly. “Y’think it’d be any different if  _ you _ got taken instead of me? You think they would’ve been any less angry at the rest of us? It just fuckin’  _ chaps _ me that you and Jax can’t get your heads out of your asses and see how much they suck!”

“Then what do you suggest?! Question Them? Defy Them? Earn the same fate you did, countless times?” Fal-Mai shouted right back, but Mordenna could spot her shoulders beginning to shake. If they punished her like they did him, chances are, she hadn’t gotten over it yet. “Surely your pride wouldn’t dare let you suggest that we come to XCOM and  _ work _ with you!”

In response to that, he quickly whipped his pistol up and shot her. She twisted and it landed in her shoulder, and she clutched the wound. It was always easier to fight than to talk. Always easier to just pull the trigger. Wasn’t like she was going to get punished again, anyways. She was the youngest. She actually did  _ right _ by the Elders. It wasn’t like him, where nothing he ever did was right. They shouldn’t have even bothered if he was going to be this much of a fuckup.  _ Odin _ shouldn’t have even bothered—

Ok, he hated being distracted by his emotions. The Assassin was on him now, tackling him to the ground and holding her Katana to his throat. If this had been one of their many physical quarrels, she would’ve swiped that across his throat and this would have been over. But no; he still saw that hesitance in her eyes, that conflict. She bared her teeth. “ _ Why. _ Why work with them? Why join XCOM?”

Mordenna locked eyes with her. “You know how much it hurts, when they punish you. You think I didn’t try, at least once, to avoid it? By then, they’d already marked me as the troublemaker. I was just a fucking  _ pincushion _ to them. Faced with that, and a few people who actually  _ give a fuck _ about what happens to me? Yeah. Yeah I’d work with XCOM any day of the week. Think about that when Eliza comes knocking on your door and I’m there with her.”

The Assassin could only stare at him dumbly, her eyes flickering about as she considered surely a thousand retorts... or maybe, indeed, how much it  _ hurt. _ Well, it was enough of a distraction for the Hunter, and she hadn’t exactly pinned his arms. With a quick snap of his wrist and a pull of the trigger, he sent a shot sailing right into her head. The look of shock as she slumped off of him, and then disappeared... wasn’t as satisfying for once. Taking little satisfaction in killing his siblings... well, maybe he would’ve had more if she hadn’t gone and said the things she did. It was supposed to be cut and dry. So, why was he conflicted on so many topics?

The sound of the Skyranger hovering behind him brought him out of his thoughts, and he scrambled to his feet. He turned to look at the gathered squad. Kalight had Samhien now, and all of Edgar’s ravens were gathered around him, still clutching Nevermore to his chest. They were all staring at him silently.

Desperate for something to fill the silence, he holstered his pistol and gestured to Edgar. “So! Obvious Poe! Are you going to join us officially or continue to be a cryptid in that godforsaken forest?”

Edgar regarded him through the eyes of one of the ravens for a bit, then cracked a grin as the cords from the Skyranger started to drop. “I think it’s time I joined up with something greater. I’ll be coming with.”

“Perfect!” Mordenna clapped his hands together, running forward and grabbing onto a cord. “Another lunatic to the pile. Off we go, I suppose!”

The rest of Menace nodded, and grabbed onto their cords. Edgar’s court either clung to him, clung to the cords, or simply flew up and into the Skyranger. Soon enough, they retracted, bringing Menace One-Five up into safety.

Mordenna was the first to swing into the ship, ducking his head as he walked through it and coming to his spot at the front, dropping into his chair. Things got muted for him after that, barely registering the others as they came on. His thoughts instead went to what his sister said, as much as he had wanted to dismiss what she brought up.

XCOM was a better environment for him, yes, and at least two people genuinely cared about him. Not because he was an asset, but because he was a  _ person. _ There was no threat of scarring punishment... and Eliza seemed far more likely to talk things out rather than blindly use her power to shut him up. He could see himself... getting more relaxed. Improving? That was yet to be seen. But, sharing it with his siblings...

He scowled. “Suppose it’s up to Eliza,” he muttered to himself.


	11. Concern

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eliza and the Hunter touch base.

Mordenna had to guess that he’d done  _ something _ wrong, that mission. Why else would he be getting called up to the Commander’s Quarters?

As he paced down the halls of the Avenger, subconsciously ducking through doorways, his brain had already been thinking on why from the moment he was asked to come up. Maybe it was staying to kill guards while he had Sammy on his shoulders. Maybe it was being intimidating to Edgar? Truthfully, Mordenna knew the most likely reason... he just didn’t want to think about what it’d mean if Eliza brought it up.

After all, he was pretty much sure that the conversation he had with his sister had more of an audience than just the rest of Menace One-Five. The Hunter was now acutely aware of the things he had said to Fal-Mai, and just how  _ angry _ he had started to get. Not the aloofness he usually put forward, or even the smug satisfaction that she was in that situation and he wasn’t. He  _ was _ driven almost entirely out of spite, after all. To see the Assassin still floundering in the Elders’ “guidance” should’ve left him laughing in her face.

But she had to reveal that she and Jax had been  _ punished _ after he’d been kidnapped.

He’d initially kept himself distanced from the idea of them still suffering at the Elders’ hands with the thought that they’d never flay the other two alive like they did him. But if Fal-Mai was to be believed, they did just that, and based on her reaction, it must’ve hurt in more ways than one. If Fal-Mai was like that, god knows how  _ Jax  _ felt, such a punishment coming down on him.

Mordenna scowled. More and more unwanted emotions had been coming to assault him with his short stint at XCOM so far. Why was there a knot in his stomach as he thought over all of it? Well... he said it himself. The Elders really had no justified cause to punish them. Even if his siblings had come to his aid, Mordenna wouldn’t have  _ let _ them. Pride, for one, and still just  _ hating _ them, for another. They were just puppets for Cronus and Helena, after all. Not so much “children” as they were ways to prove superiority. So why was he still hung up on this? Was he starting to consider them...?

“God,” he said to no one in particular, “I’m starting to re-think this whole ‘joining XCOM’ business. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it was making me grow a  _ conscience. _ ” The Hunter, with a conscience? Hardly a Hunter at all, in his eyes. “I’m not the Hunter anymore. I’ve been changed. Morphed, against my will! Curse the Commander and her wiles.”

Oh, god, no thinking on the Commander’s  _ charms. _ Mordenna swiftly clamped his mouth shut and resumed his silence just in time for him to end up at the door to her quarters. He tapped the access panel and stepped inside when the door opened.

The Commander’s Quarters were a pretty cushy operation, considering everything. A bed, a desk with a huge screen, an upright dresser, and a door to what Mordenna could only guess was a personal bathroom. There were even displays in the walls near the door—mostly pictures and models, but in one of this displays, there was a coat. It looked like it hadn’t been worn in a while, but kept in good shape regardless. Mordenna wracked his brain for what military outfit it belonged to, but came up with nothing in his database. Maybe it was for her time during the First Contact.

In the center of the room was a table surrounded by two loveseats and two chairs, and on one of the former sat Eliza. She nodded to Mordenna as he entered, gesturing to sit down. “Mordenna. Glad to see you, and nice work on the last mission. Things went a lot smoother thanks to you.”

Huh. Recognition for his skill? The Hunter was almost surprised. So almost-surprised that he didn’t notice he’d complied with sitting down until he was reclined in the chair across from her. “Well, well, trying to butter me up, Eliza? I’m flattered, but I’m pretty sure you didn’t come up here to compliment me and give me a congratulatory snog.”

Eliza chuckled, leaning back in her seat. “Catch me when I’ve had a few and we’ll see about that.” Now that made some of the emotions Mordenna wished he could shoot take note and he internally sighed. Thankfully, Eliza moved on quickly and she cleared her throat, straightening. “I must also commend you for your efforts against your sister, and for fighting her off at a close-range disadvantage. But, you’re right, I’m not here to compliment you all day.”

Mordenna immediately clued into what she wanted to discuss and he held up a hand, shaking his head. “Y’know that was just to distract her,” he excused himself with, hoping to get Eliza off this topic. He knew that one of the things Eliza wanted to do was help him out in this area, sure, but  _ actually _ letting her help was a different shooting range. “Meant nothing to me, really.”

The Commander fixed him with a look that screamed she wasn’t buying it. Still, when she spoke, her voice was gentle. “Mordenna, based on previous observations, you aren’t one to get agitated like you did within visible range of  _ anyone. _ You obviously meant what you said to her.” Her face softened further. “Do you want to talk?”

Honestly, Mordenna couldn’t look at her. Not when she looked so  _ concerned. _ Yeah, she had shown this level of concern and care at the start, but for her to actually follow up on it? To not just use it to sucker him in and then treat him like any other soldier in her command? It threw Mordenna’s brain for a loop. He was already trying to justify it to himself. Of course, the Commander was smarter than  _ that.  _ She’d just continue to pretend to care for a bit before she actually dropped the act, to convince him it was real before finding reasons to wean him off of it. 

But even so... there was a part of him that wanted to believe she  _ was _ being truthful. He hadn’t talked to anyone about what the Elders had done to him for fifteen years. Maybe a barbed, vague remark at Jax or Fal-Mai, but that was it. There was a lot inside of him that was screaming to be let out, and if Eliza could help...?

His silence must’ve spoke volumes, because Eliza leaned forward. “It’s alright if you don’t want to talk about it right  _ now, _ but it’s something I want to cover eventually. I care for you, and I want you to know that.”

Eliza offering that he didn’t have to talk about it right now could go one of two ways in his mind. He could take the offer and kick this particular can down the road, or he could talk about it now and... his mind didn’t really want to approach that possibility. Actually talking about what happened with him and the Elders? Unheard of. But the same part of him that seemed to look upon Eliza a lot more fonder than what he was comfortable with nudged him to take this time with her.

Of course, just to be contrarian, he managed to think of something that would neither take nor deny her offer. “Well, Eliza, I can’t help but be hesitant knowing that you’re going to do this spiel with my other two siblings. After all, I can only imagine looking after  _ me _ is gonna put a few more gray hairs on that head of yours. What do you think looking after Fal-Mai and, god forbid,  _ Jax _ as well is going to do to you?”

Eliza raised an eyebrow at that, which immediately made Mordenna suspicious. “It sounds to me that you’re concerned about my health, Hunter, which I nevertheless appreciate.”

“Hey,” he said, pointing at her, “don’t you get me marked as the caring type. I’ll leave that to you if that’s your angle. I’m just saying you’re gonna do a piss-poor job if you’re trying to divide your attention between no less than  _ three  _ Chosen.”

The Commander smiled kindly. “And you think I haven’t been dividing my attention since day one? Factions, my own soldiers, resources, and keeping tabs on that Avatar Project... I’ve had my hands full for as long as I’ve known, and I’d like to think I’ve proven I can handle it. If you not getting enough care is your concern, please don’t worry. I fully intend on giving you the attention you deserve.”

Something seemed lacking about that whole plan, and it seemed like it was Eliza’s plan for herself. Mordenna couldn’t help but think that it all left so little room for  _ herself _ at the end of the day. Then again, she  _ was _ XCOM’s Commander. Perhaps she made it work. So the Hunter sighed, conceding the point. “Alright, alright. Let’s say I believe you for now. At the very least, I guess I’ll be having fun hunting down my sister for the last time.”

At that, Eliza’s mouth settled into a worried line, an expression that practically read “about that.” “Mordenna, I  _ would _ highly value your expertise on the upcoming Stronghold Assault... but I don’t think you should be going, in the interest of your sister’s life. I know you won’t hesitate to pull the trigger while her sarcophagus is in one piece, and I appreciate that. What I worry about is you not hesitating to pull the trigger when it’s  _ not. _ ”

Well, Mordenna couldn’t accuse Eliza of being unable to predict him... as much as her saying that hit right home. Yeah, he probably would at least give a lot of thought to killing off Fal-Mai for good. More attention for him, didn’t have to deal with her on the Avenger, and it would be the best revenge. If Eliza had sent him out there without taking that into consideration... then again, she  _ is _ the Commander. Her taking it into account just further reinforced that.

Still, he couldn’t let it slide so easily. He didn’t have the pride of his brother, but he had  _ some. _ “Eliza! One of the few reasons I join up with you and your kindergarten class and you take it away from me? Again with these trust issues... what’ve you got against me, Lizzie?”

“After last mission, where you opted to stay and fire on security personnel with the VIP on your shoulders? I’m sorry to say that in regards to being bloodthirsty, I trust you in  _ that _ department.”

Ooh. Damn, Eliza was good. “Alright, damn, Commander. Hit me right on the mark. Got another question for you, though.” He gestured at her. “Why didn’t you stop me?”

Eliza responded smoothly. “Would you have listened?”

The Commander had him down two to zero, and the Hunter never liked being down in score. Granted, it was all fair points she was making, but that didn’t make them sting any less. His mouth settled into a line. “... what if I said ‘yes’ to that, Eliza?”

At that look, Eliza clasped her hands, straightening up again. “Then I would apologize for misreading your character as such, and work with you to be more proactive about giving you orders in the future. But if your answer is no, I’ll explain that instead of potentially losing time trying to order you from your spot, I moved to the communication channels of the others to guide them out and into position.”

As always, Eliza’s way of approaching things was intriguing, and a bit impressive. Instead of wasting her breath on him, she opted to communicate with the people who  _ would  _ listen, and arguably who needed it a bit more. That first part got his attention, too... Actual apology on the part of a authority figure? The Hunter could hardly believe his ears. Then again, it could just be hot air. It was one thing to say something, another thing entirely to actually  _ do _ it.

But before the Hunter could press anything about it, he watched as Eliza ever so slightly looked to her right, brows knitting. “From who?” She asked, and the Hunter supposed she was communicating through an earpiece or the like. After a moment, the Hunter spotted Eliza go through all five stages of grief, before sighing and standing up. “I’ll be heading down shortly.”

Mordenna quirked an eyebrow, moving to stand. Curious. “What’s got your attention, Liz?”

“That was Bradford. I’ve got a call in Resistance Communications—from  _ Volk. _ ” She looks at him pointedly. “Assuredly about you, considering the Reapers have eyes everywhere.”

At that, Mordenna couldn’t help but grin. “Oh, what, Lizzie? Didn’t clear me hanging with your crew with  _ everyone? _ ”

“Just not Volk,” she said, walking past him, “or Geist...” That was definitely resigned dread in her voice, which was morbidly amusing. The Hunter supposed he’d be seeing more stuff like Eliza trying to juggle everything at once, if he was staying. He didn’t want to think too much on it, though—because his next line of thought was how much it must be wearing her down and  _ that _ would imply he cared. Couldn’t cop to that.

Discarding his thoughts, he walked along behind her. He hadn’t been dismissed, so he figured Eliza either was fine with him following or wanted him to. “Oh, this’ll be fun,” he joked to fill the silence, “Can’t wait to see the look on that old bastard’s face when he sees me looming behind you.”

“Assuredly it’ll be hilarious,” she quipped right back, pleasing the Hunter, “for all of three seconds. I’m sure you’ll get at least six out of it, but sadly I have to  _ deal _ with him being angry about all of this, and Volk kicked up enough of a fuss about me working with the Skirmishers.”

“I’d like to see him look Sammy in the eye and tell him he ain’t no good. He’d probably manage it, but still. Would justify the resulting asskicking.”

“Oh, get in line, Mordenna. Both the line for kicking Volk’s ass and the line for appreciating Samhien.”

Eliza rounded a corner and Mordenna followed. “And what about Geist, Liz? I can only imagine you’re going to immediately lose those Templars over this,  _ especially _ when you reveal that you’re going to do this spiel with the Warlock.”

She waved it off, but his eyes could pick out how tense her neck was. “Implying I’m not always wrestling with him regarding his support? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was wanting us to fail.” Eliza nodded to some passing soldiers, waiting until they were gone to resume speaking. “If he wasn’t such a pretty face...”

Hmmmmm. Her saying that... didn’t sit the best with him. The Hunter knew exactly why and hated that it did. Eliza was  _ human. _ Visually, at least—the Elders had gotten  _ some _ work done on her. Point being, he shouldn’t be thinking about what he was at all. Mordenna let out a short “hmph.” “Letting your  _ worldly _ attractions influence your choices of allies, Eliza?”

She laughed, shaking her head. “If that’s your angle, you’re going to have to catch me out on all three of them, and plenty of others. I’m a sucker for a pretty face.”

Assuredly, his wasn’t in the mix. He crossed his arms, and was he getting a bit _testy?_ _God, you’re a child._ “Good to know the commander of XCOM can let her lust influence her decisions.”

The Commander shrugged, stopping in front of a door. “I wouldn’t put it that way. I can appreciate a nice person while also separating their actions from them, and judging how I want to proceed. Lust almost never comes into it.”

Still, Mordenna found himself fixating on it, and he didn’t particularly like that. It wasn’t like Eliza would like him like that anyway, right? He was a Chosen, after all, and he was  _ the Hunter. _ Then again, Betos was apparently on her list of attractions, which gave him hope he didn’t want. He let the topic go as Eliza opened the door, stepping inside.

Ducking under the doorframe, the Hunter could pick this room out as the Resistance room. The banners of all three factions hung on the walls, and in the middle of the room was a planning table. On the far wall was a giant screen, which was currently tuned to Volk’s  _ very _ tense face.

“ _ Eliza. _ ” He began, and the Hunter got the firm impression that he was staring at him. “Why is  _ he _ free? I thought you told me you had him under wraps. And what the hell was he doing in the field?”

Eliza walked up to the table, taking a place that the Hunter could see was ever so minorly worn down. “Volk, if one of your scouts in the field saw him, then assuredly they also saw how he didn’t hesitate to kill his sister  _ and _ rescued our second Skirmisher operative himself, yes? Or did your scouts decide that not  _ important _ enough to share?”

Volk rubbed at his face, still eyeing the Hunter. Tellingly, he said nothing on that. “You’re still letting an  _ alien _ run around your ship. I can deal with Skirmishers, Commander. They’ve proven themselves.”

Oh, the Hunter couldn’t help himself. An old memory was calling to him, one he couldn’t quite grasp—but it leaned him into quipping. “My, my, Konstantine Volikov? Accepting  _ Skirmishers? _ Who are you and what have you done with Volk since I’ve been gone?”

The familiarity of his tone no doubt was what set Volk’s face further into distaste. “Unlike  _ you, _ who’s been barking as the Elders’ dog, the Commander’s been busy fighting a war and showing who her worthy allies are.”

Volk never lost his ability to bite. Though why Mordenna was familiar with that, he couldn’t say. But hey, if it annoyed Volk? Good enough for him. Still, being accused as a dog of the Elders didn’t exactly make him happy. “And so, by recruiting me, Eliza has declared me as an ally, hasn’t she? Sounds like someone has me mistaken for my brother—if anybody, you should be calling  _ him _ the dog.” A wicked grin grew. “Oh, but something tells me you won’t be happy to hear what Eliza wants to do with the Warlock and the Assassin, either...”

Volk looked back to Eliza. “ _ Eliza. _ ”

Eliza was currently facing the screen, but Mordenna could tell by the way she set back her shoulders that what he said wasn’t exactly welcome. “He’s right, Volk, and while I would’ve like to explain that  _ myself, _ ” no doubt aimed at Mordenna, “It’s true, and something I wanted to bring up sooner rather than later.”

Volk gestured to them. “I would’ve thought ‘sooner’ would be  _ before _ you’re letting that maniac run amok.”

Eliza sighed, but kept her posture straight. “I realize that, and I apologize. I was hoping to do this on better terms, but Samhien was kidnapped, and we got the tip fairly early, and Mordenna was one of the best men for the job. I would’ve sent Wukong, but... he’s still recovering. And you are still in possession of Outrider for right now.”

Volk didn’t look like he was happy with that still, but some tension left his face. Eliza certainly was good at this whole “apologizing” bit. “Well... better than me thinking  _ you _ weren’t thinking, which I wouldn’t put you up to.” Then, a bit of worry slipped into his expression. “Are you  _ really _ going to do this with all the Chosen?  _ Him, _ sure. But the other two seem less likely to play nice.”

Eliza swept her hand out, leaning over the table with the other. “Yes, and I understand that. But there is room to negotiate, and talking is one of the things I do best, Volk. Mordenna stands behind me, doesn’t he?”

Volk simply regarded her and the Hunter for a minute. “What  _ was _ the deal you two came to, exactly? I can’t imagine you can offer him much that he can’t just take.”

Hm. The hand that was supporting Eliza on the table tensed up. Mordenna joined her in the mild abrasion, but shrugged it off, as he was wont to do. “As much as I would absolutely love to,” he began, “I can’t take on the Elders alone, y’know. And I’ve got a  _ lot _ of pent-up hate for those bastards. It’d be more satisfying to one-man army them, and sure, maybe I could pull it off! But working with XCOM makes it easier, and maybe a touch more fun. I’m allowed to design my own toys here, of course, and I get to shoot game the Elders didn’t want me to. For now, it’s paradise.”

“And when the war’s over?”

Mordenna grinned. “‘We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it.’”

Volk looked at him for a moment longer before sighing, rubbing his forehead. “Fine. Alright. If anybody has it handled, I guess it’s you, Eliza. God knows it would’ve been easier to just off him, but...”

“Konstantine Volikov, I don’t know if you know,” Eliza said, and her smile could be heard through her words, “but I am Eliza O’Leary, Commander of XCOM. My portfolio includes surviving for twenty years in the Elders’ drunk tank, converting a Chosen to my side, and never taking the easiest option.”

Now that was enough to earn a smirk out of Volk, but it settled into something more neutral quickly. Eliza pressed on. “But, to sum it up: yes. I am prepared to face the consequences if things don’t go well and I am fully ready to issue kill orders if things get hairy—but not without having tried everything within reason, first. I ask for your patience for a bit, and if I miss my mark critically? I invite you to lead XCOM in my stead.”

He leaned back in his chair, a fair bit more relaxed than he was before. A smile worked its way back to his face. “Leading XCOM? Me? I think I’ll pass, Liz. I’ll be willing to go along with all of this... provided you give me a definite date on that romantic dinner.”

Mockingly, Mordenna gagged behind Eliza. The Commander herself laughed, straightening back up. “Oh, alright. I need to drop by your headquarters for some business, anyhow. We’re planning to assault the Assassin’s Stronghold within the week, so... I would estimate about a week out, depending on where you guys have set up shop.”

Volk nodded, grabbing a pen and paper and jotting something down. “I’ll have one of the gammas send you our latest coordinates.” Ah, the paperwork jockeys of the Reapers. Every faction needed them. No, the Hunter didn’t know exactly  _ why _ he knew that. Perhaps it was a tidbit he had picked up on a hunt, once. “I’m holding you to this, Eliza.”

“So long as you’ll give what I’m doing a shot.”

Volk stopped writing, seemingly fixing them both with a serious stare. “So long as you remember the death on his hands, Commander.”

There was a moment of silence. Eliza had gone still. Then, she spoke. “Is the death on my hands any different?”

He shook his head sternly. “Aliens don’t count, Eliza.”

“I wasn’t talking about the aliens.”

Now that... that stopped Volk up, and the Hunter too. Right. Eliza, despite everything, had been a battery for the Network for twenty years. Not just that—the Elders’ main computational lead. The one guiding their soldiers through every raid, every pull of the trigger—and this wasn’t even counting her previous military experience, which led her to this point. No doubt, the Commander had seen even more death than the Hunter had. It was a pretty serious subject... which, naturally, meant that Mordenna didn’t like thinking over it.

Eliza, apparently, didn’t like lingering on it either. She cleared her throat. “So long as  _ you _ know that, I think we can reach a mutual agreement. Is that all?”

Volk shifted in his seat, nodding shallowly. “That’d be it. Volk out.”

With that, the connection closed, and the feed cut. That left Mordenna and Eliza standing in the room, silence growing. Mordenna didn’t like silence he didn’t have to keep up. When he was hunting? Count him at a hush. Otherwise? “So, Eliza, by my recounting? You still have a ‘Prophet’ to call, and what fun  _ that _ will be.”

Looks like Eliza was wanting the change of subject—she turned to face him and smoothly responded. “Implying I don’t have to face the music every day of my life? It’ll be no different than what Volk just lambasted me with.”

Snickering, Mordenna started to pace, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Oh, Commander. You’re an awful riot to hang around, you know that? Makes playing for the good side fun.”

“And worth it?”

“Hey now,” he said, pointing at her, “baby steps. We’ll see if it’s ‘worth it’ if I survive my siblings living here. Still not thrilled about that, by the way. You get on me for my willingness to kill them, but what’s to say the two of them won’t jump me the first chance they get? Hell, what’s to stop just  _ Fal-Mai _ from murdering the fuck out of me?”

“Negotiations, naturally,” Eliza began. “The fact that I’ve successfully talked with you will help in the end, and things will go a lot better if you at least don’t attempt to kill them first. The first thing is showing them that things  _ are _ safe here.” Her gaze softened, and she clasped her hands in front of her. “None of that  _ punishment _ to be had.”

At that, the Hunter’s jovial mood soured, and he looked to the side. “Yeah. Sure. Don’t forget you’re going up against the  _ Elders _ here, Eliza. They can offer a lot more.”

“The very same Elders flaying them alive in the first place, and cultivating such neglect that one of their children was easily willing to join the fight to  _ kill _ them?”

Mordenna scowled. “You’re missing something, Eliza. Those two are  _ indoctrinated. _ I missed the mark because I was Ascended while I wasn’t so impressionable, unlike Jax. Definitely not vat-grown, either. I was easy because I actively hated those bastards. The other two? Probably thinking they deserve that punishment. Probably thinking it’s just their faults the Elders are hypocrites and don’t know what they want out of kids.” His voice dropped. “Probably  _ happy _ that their ‘miscreant brother’ is out of the picture.”

He could hear Eliza stepping closer to him and he tensed, waiting for some sort of reprimand. After all, it was pretty non-conducive to what she was trying to do by listing off everything against her. That was just fostering resentment. Eliza should be getting angry at him that he’s being unhelpful, right?

_ Something _ touched his shoulder and he whipped his head back, eyes wide. Eliza was withdrawing her hand, looking at him with that soft expression from earlier. Was she... trying to comfort him? What...? “Well, I’m happy you’re in my picture. Hopefully, I can get others to see that, too.”

He... didn’t have anything to say to that, for a moment. He really, really wasn’t expecting that. Yeah, maybe Eliza had said she cared, maybe she said she wanted to show him what actual love is about, but he still wasn’t thinking she’d follow up on it. His brain scrambled for something, anything to say. “You’ll be fighting an uphill battle there, Lizzie.” That’d do. More being difficult!

But, Eliza nodded sadly. “I know. Nothing’s ever really easy. But I’m willing to work for it, like I’m willing to work with you.”

_ Goddamnit, Eliza. You’re supposed to give up. You’re supposed to decide it’s not worth it. Ain’t nothing good can come out of me. _ After all, if she didn’t care, it’d be easier to leave. Or, “leave,” whatever happened first. He looked away again, mood decidedly somber. But... as always, the prospect of actually talking out his problems? Almost frightening, but under that fright was a certain willingness. The hope that maybe, just maybe, things could get better. 

But this was a place too open. The communications channel could open. Somebody could walk in from outside. There were so many things that could go wrong and the Hunter’s brain was happy to supply him with all of them. He shrugged, mostly to himself. There was always “later.” “Guess we can trash that bridge when we get to it,” he muttered.

“Later,” Eliza said firmly. “Somewhere more quiet, more private. I really would like to talk seriously, Mordenna.”

Shrugging again, he looked back to her. Thankfully, instead of setting a definite date for that, he remembered what she was supposed to be doing. “So. Calling Geist?”

Eliza looked back towards the monitor, and there was definitely a lot of hesitation on her face. Eliza, Commander of XCOM, unwilling to “face the music.” She sighed. “Geist can know later. I’ve only got so many hours in the day and I can always call him up tomorrow, when we’re gathering things together for the mission. Need a few days for Shen to finish fixing up SYN, anyhow.”

A thought occurred to him and Mordenna was right back to grinning. “Oh, yeah, Commander. I’d say I did well on that mission. Where’s my all-access pass to the Workshop?”

Now that brought a smile to Eliza’s face and Mordenna found himself relaxing. “I’ll let Shen know of your upgraded status, and one of your first orders of business can be helping her fix up SYN. You  _ were _ the one who shot out his leg, after all.”

“Yep! Shot him right on the mark, too. If you ask me, I’ve got about ten different ideas on how to piece those robots together better.”

“Then by all means, share them with the Chief Engineer.” Eliza gestured vaguely. “She’s always looking for ways to improve our arsenal. I think she’ll like your suggestions.”

Honestly, Mordenna was pretty jazzed about getting an opportunity to do some personal projects that the Elders wouldn’t let him do—as well as making changes to guns that would be mass-produced. They wouldn’t let him change up any of the weaponry, supposedly because it’s mean he was a better creator than they were, and they wouldn’t have that within their increasingly short lifetimes. So hey, even if it meant fixing what he’d broken in the first place, he was a happy camper.

Eliza turned back to the table, accessing a panel on it and starting to navigate menus. “I’ve got a thing or two to handle before the day’s out. Calling Betos, for one. I’m sure she’ll want to hear of our success in getting one of her best Skirmishers back.”

Mordenna looked towards the screen as it displayed “Connecting...” in the center. “Sure she’s gonna be happy I’m in here with you? You’ve already gone and worried one faction today.”

“Betos caught on quickly what my intentions for you and your siblings were, though maybe she was a bit inaccurate in coming to her conclusion. Nevertheless, I think she’d like to see you here and hear about how you played an integral part in rescuing Samhien.”

“Somebody liking seeing me? Eliza, what notions do you have in your head?”

“Good ones, namely,” she said, casting a smile his way. “After all, I’m pretty happy to see you here.”

Goddamnit Eliza. He sighed. “This ‘love and support’ thing is giving me second thoughts,” he shot back, decidedly joking.

Before Eliza could continue the banter, the screen came to life, showing Betos sitting at a table, the feed crackling for a bit before stabilizing. Her eyes came upon the Hunter and she looked rather surprised for a second, but the expression died quickly. “Commander. Hunter.”

“Betos.” Eliza nodded at her. “I’m here to report that the mission to rescue Samhien was an overwhelming success. Did more than rescue him—we got a new operative out of it and Mordenna here was the one who sprung Samhien from his jail.”

That got a look of  _ pleasant _ surprise out of Betos, and she smiled. “I see your efforts, as always, show their worth, Commander. To see one of the Chosen acting against the Elders will no doubt shake the faith in the False Gods.”

“One of many benefits, I assure you. Now,” Eliza said, “We’re soon going to have a full squad ready for the mission of capturing the Assassin. Samhien is too injured to participate, but rest assured, Mox will be on the mission.”

Betos chuckled. “I find that well! He will no doubt revel in the chance to prove his skills against the Assassin.”

The Hunter couldn’t handle being silent any longer. Quipping it was. “I’m pretty sure he’ll also appreciate the chance to turn the tables on her and show  _ her _ what being captured is like. Maybe it’ll fly over his head, maybe it won’t, but I’ll laugh at it.”

“All very good reasons,” Betos grinned, “and I have confidence that Eliza will be able to guide her soldiers to victory.”

“Vote of confidence accepted and appreciated,” Eliza said.

Betos clasped her hands together on the table. “As always, Commander. I must take a moment to thank you—and the Hunter—for rescuing Samhien from the Assassin. For a Skirmisher to endure the Assassin’s captivity and live to tell the tale will be a great boon to morale. The fact that he was rescued by the Chosen Hunter will also do wonders for Hunter Mordenna’s image amongst the Skirmishers. Actions speak the loudest, after all.”

“Hardly need to tell me twice.” Eliza stood up straight. “Thank you in turn, Betos. I appreciate your assistance at every turn. I always count getting to discuss things with you as a good thing—you tend to understand.”

Now, the feed wasn’t so good on color definition, but Mordenna could swear he spotted a hue of  _ orange _ coming to Betos’s face. Well, if it did, it was gone as soon as it came. She nodded. “Your appreciation is noted, Commander. Will that be all?”

“That’d be it.”

“Understood. Good luck, Commander.” With that, the feed cut once more. Eliza gathered a paper or two on the table.

Mordenna couldn’t help but still feel disappointed that he wasn’t going on the action to perturb his sister. But, then again, there was always to option of poking at her when she was in her cell aboard here. If the Commander allowed that, mind, but he felt like if he could eke in a talk with her, he might be trusted enough to go annoy his sister unsupervised. Then again, that meant having a  _ talk _ with the Commander, and wouldn’t  _ that _ be fun?

Eliza finished gathering a few documents, turning to leave. Mordenna watched her go for a bit before the silence got to him. “Now, where ya jetting off to, Lizzie?”

She looked back, smiling at him. “With luck, to your sister’s doorstep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, all. As of time of writing, I'm going to be having a two-week vacation in October. I was glad I was able to finish at least Ch11 before then! I'm going to be working my hardest to get another chapter out before I head out of the country.
> 
> As a reminder, if you want faster updates about what's going on, you can track me on my Tumblr over at grace-kohai.tumblr.com/tagged/sftd-update . I'll try to get more in the swing of updating on progress regularly if there's interest shown--my ask box is always open and Anonymous questions are on.


	12. Breach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> XCOM invades the Assassin's Stronghold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Thanks to the wonderful Jack_Kellar, we now have a TV Tropes page! You can find it at https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Fanfic/SympathyForTheDevil and while I'll be updating it while I can, contributions are very much welcome! Like the story, have already kudos'ed but are too shy to comment? Contribute to the TV Tropes page!

Once the dust had cleared from the blast charges, five soldiers and a SPARK descended into the Assassin’s Stronghold.

Pratal Mox led the squad at the front. Behind him, Sherry and SYN took point, while Banel kept his head on a swivel. Moody was behind all of them, keeping to the back and in cover for lack of high ground.

Finally, descending from above as Nevermore fanned out his wings, Edgar touched down, clutching a Powered Shadowkeeper on loan from Moody. The “Alloy Cuffs” Shen had made were hanging off of his belt, and his usual coat had an armored undervest underneath, similar to what the Reapers wore. The rest of his omen, he had decided, should stay in the ship. With an entrance like that, there was no room for stealth—and ravens wouldn’t blend in well in an underground structure.

Gingerly, the squad moved forward. Practice guided Sherry and SYN’s steps, but the rest only had their wits to go on. Mox reached the first set of doors, sparing a glance beyond. He spoke softly into his helmet. “I’m seeing no less than three ADVENT—a Stun Lancer, an Officer, and a Priest. They are all alert.”

“Roger that,” Eliza replied, eyes scanning the feed they were getting from above. Hopefully, they weren’t in for any surprises compared to last time. Though, with the guard being father up... maybe it was catching the patrol at a different time. Or maybe...

She looked to the Hunter, who was standing behind her and similarly keeping his eyes trained on the screen. Though, when Eliza looked at him, he cast his gaze to her and grinned. “What? You don’t let me on the mission, fine, I get that. But I’m sure as hell gonna backseat command this shit. If Bradford can do it, so can I.”

Bradford, beside her, looked for all the world like he’d rather be down there himself than having the Hunter’s commentary over his shoulder. “I thought one of the points to taking down the Chosen was to  _ silence _ banter like this.”

“Jonathan Bradford, like  _ you _ have room to complain,” Eliza shot back, looking back to the screen. “I firmly have the notion that the aliens are continuing progress on the Avatar Project in my head, thank you.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Bradford grinned. “And if we’re going to slow them down...”

“You’ll need to move. Quickly? Hm, something like that.” The Hunter seemingly always had to have a word in. Wasn’t like Eliza was complaining... too much. There  _ were _ times where she wished he’d put a lid on it. “Anyway, Commander, I could’ve just  _ told _ you where my sister was hiding out. No need to play coy with scouting.”

Eliza thought for a moment. “So. Does that mean you know where your brother’s Stronghold is?”

Eliza got the distinct impression that the Hunter was smirking. “Oh, I don’t know, Eliza... never visited him as often, don’t have his address memorized, I guess I  _ could _ be convinced to think of it...”

Oh, the Hunter sure knew how to play hard-to-get. But, that was distracting from her main focus. She shifted her attention proper back to the screen, watching as the squad tentatively advanced. A few options ran through her head and she decided on a course of action. She wanted to save all of her explosive ordinance for the fight with the Assassin. “Mox, if you can get the angle right, I want you to bring that Priest over to your position and take it out. Davy Jones, your angle is good, I want a potshot on whoever moves into view after that. SYN, Cherry, overwatch. Baal, suppress whoever’s left. And Raven King? Stay low, keep an eye out, manage a shot if you think you can make it.”

She got various affirmations from the squad, and watched as Mox leaned out into the open, just far enough to get a good angle. Then, his ripjack’s cord lept out and snagged the Priest, dragging it in full view of Menace. Death was quick after that, and the rest of the pieces she had set up fell into place.

“ _ Brutal _ efficiency, Commander,” the Hunter commented, assuredly watching it all go down. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’ve done this before.”

“ _ The Commander has, and I do not intend to let her be as successful this time. _ ”

That was the Assassin on general comms, and down below, the squad wasn’t too distracted by it. Mox had taken the lead after dispatching the first squad and was navigating through the labyrinth that was the Stronghold. Eliza focused her attention on that this time, but offered some of her attention to the Assassin. “My track record is good, Assassin. I’d say I’m going to give myself at least a fighting chance.”

“ _ A fight is what I wish for, Commander. Anything else would be spitting in my face. But, I cannot let you win. There is far more at stake than even you realize, and in order for us to avoid utter destruction, you must be returned to the Elders. _ ”

“Oh, really, sis?” She could hear the Hunter’s sneer in his voice. “Do you even know what’s at stake, here, or have you just been blindly believing everything the Elders have been throwing at you again?”

The Assassin’s response was swift. “ _ I know more than enough to realize that with XCOM’s actions, they doom the universe to destruction! The Elders have a solution against total annihilation. The tragedies and losses faced in the wake of that are nothing against oblivion. Brother, why do you not understand? _ ”

Eliza furrowed her brow. She’d absolutely love to be a part of the conversation, really, but matters on the ground required her attention—like the next squad Menace was encountering. There was a lot more security this time around, and more organization, from the looks of it. That brought up a... concerning line of thought, regarding the Hunter. Combined with the things he’d said in the past, Eliza half-thought he had  _ wanted _ XCOM to get to him as quick as possible, while still under the impression that they were out to kill him.

She really, really needed to get that talk with him scheduled.

“Oh, I understand alright, but the Elders lost my sympathy from day one, Fal-Mai. They can fuck off and die for all I care—and I care a  _ lot _ about them dying, you see. I care that it’s me pulling the trigger when they do.” Seems they were still going at it.

“ _ After all They’ve done for you, Mordenna? They made you greater, offered you a purpose! Why would you turn your back on that? _ ”

Mordenna’s voice had more than a hint venom when he next spoke. “Don’t you fuckin’ play dumb with me, sister. It ain’t what they’ve done for me. It’s what they’ve done  _ to _ me. If you weren’t lying earlier, you know how it feels. You want me to come back and feel that? Huh?”

There was a moment’s pause in the banter, and Eliza almost thought the Assassin had given up trying to convince her brother entirely. More focus for her, she supposed—

“ _ You... you  _ **_disobeyed,_ ** _ brother. That’s why you were punished— _ ”

“Bull. Fucking.  _ Shit, _ sis. I guess you weren’t listening to me before and wow, thanks, that’s nice to know. I  _ tried _ being the poster child well before you showed up, and you know what that got me? Nothing. I slipped up on accident for once and the fuckers thought I did it on purpose. So there went that. So stop trying to school me on what I could or couldn’t have done. Believe me, I’ve tried. Now are you gonna keep dragging the rest of XCOM in on our family drama or are you going to let Eliza kidnap you?”

The personnel on the Bridge were silent, including Eliza. Down on the ground, there wasn’t any friendly banter outside of shots called and reloads. Eliza’s worry for the Hunter—and all the Chosen—grew. There was another period of no talking from the Assassin, like she was trying to come up with alternate routes and failing.

Eliza watched as Mox capped the last Officer of the pod. He’d taken a grazing hit to his side and Banel had taken a few direct shots—but Banel was hardly any worse for wear. The squad was still green. Eliza took her chance to speak freely. “Squad, reload, proceed forwards.” She thought for a moment, then decided to take pity on the Assassin’s silence. “Nice place you got here, Assassin. Such a shame we’re rummaging through it, but I’m not keen on you dropping in on my missions and scaring the daylights out of my soldiers. I’ll definitely try to give you a good fight.”

It was a moment, but the Assassin responded. “ _ It is not ‘you’ who will be fighting me—simply the soldiers you send to shed blood in your name. I have become a nuisance; therefore, you send your soldiers to put me down. I understand why you do not fight for yourself, Commander, but I will not have you speak to me as if you do. _ ”

All that got out of Eliza was a short chuckle. “Two things about that—firstly, I suppose you’re right. Shouldn’t be taking credit for the work my soldiers do in the field, but it’s a style of speaking I lapse into often. Don’t think for a second that I’m trying to take all the ‘glory.’ Secondly, murder is so barbaric.” She knew full well the context of that against  _ everything _ , of course. “XCOM offers a health benefits program, you sure you don’t want to at least give our brochures a look?”

Behind her, the Hunter snickered. “Yeah,  _ sis _ , at least give it a shot. I’m hooked, after all.”

“ _ Your manner of joking about forcefully taking me from my masters does you no favors, Commander, _ ” the Assassin returned. “ _ I cannot let you capture me. _ ”

“Cannot? Awfully different from  _ will not, _ sis.” The Hunter, as ever, picked apart everything. “You might want to be careful about your language. Once the Elders have smacked you around, they’re a lot less hesitant to do it again.”

“ _ They would not punish me for such a small slight. _ ”

“Uh-huh. Yeah. Tell yourself that now, bet it helps you sleep at night.”

“Kids,” Eliza interjected, watching as Menace One-Five hit their next pod close to the Ascension Pad by her guessing, “could you lighten up a little? I’m trying to lead a squad here.” Speaking of. Mox was pinned down under suppressing fire from a Muton and the rest of the squad was engaged... but it looked like SYN could spare a moment. “SYN, fire on the Muton pinning Mox.”

“ _ Affirmative. _ ” SYN wastes no time in lining up a shot, downing the alien and freeing Mox. He nodded appreciatively to the SPARK, then pulled a Shieldbearer to his position and showed it the sharp part of his Ripjack. Things were generally proceeding well, and if the layout of the Assassin’s Stronghold was anything like her brother’s? This was the last spot of resistance they would face. 

“Eliza, Eliza, you askin’ me to lighten up regarding the Elders? Rather short-sighted for a Commander of your caliber.” She could tell that Mordenna was joking, but it was a fair point. “Besides,  _ she started it. _ ”

“Oh, no, certainly not. The bastards deserve it, but I think I could also accuse  _ you _ of dredging out your own family drama for all to see.”

“Once again, Lizzie, she started it, and I’ll sure as hell respond to shots.”

Eliza sighed, eyes regarding the screen a moment longer. “And then Fal-Mai will shoot back, which will prompt you to return fire, and thus the cycle of revenge continues until everyone forgets what they’re fighting about in the first place.”

“ _ As much as I disagree with you, Commander, _ ” the Assassin cut in, sounding softer, “ _ your wisdom is not to be dismissed. I see how you sway others to your side. _ ”

“Well, I appreciate the acknowledgement, Assassin. If you’ll allow me, I’ll thank you in person as well.”

“ _ We shall see, Commander, but I do not intend on letting you win. _ ”

Hm. Maybe Mordenna was right—it did sound like the Assassin was stepping around her words a little. For all of her loyalty to the Elders, she wasn’t as adamant about chasing XCOM out... up until Mordenna pointed that out, of course. But, if she herself was to be believed, she was flayed just as the Hunter was. Perhaps she wasn’t as willing to serve under those who would do something so harsh. If she failed here, if Eliza was unable to secure the Assassin, she would no doubt be forced to serve under the Elders forever.

Eliza really, really needed to talk with all the Chosen. That, or cap the Elders. Whoever came first. Especially that bastard Arg—

“ _ Commander O’Leary. _ ” That was Mox. “ _ We have successfully neutralized all resistance. The Assassin’s Ascension Pad is within sight, and we are ready to move on your order. _ ”

Eliza blinked, clearing her thoughts. Well, enough thinking on that. Back to tactics. “Understood. Menace One-Five, make sure everyone’s on that pad—otherwise, you’re green to go.”

Mox nodded on the ground, and she watched as the squad advanced forwards, into the final room of the Stronghold. Eliza straightened, looking to the Hunter. Mordenna was still watching the screen raptly, and looked like he was lost in thought. Not for long. He noticed Eliza looking at him and shrugged, expression going neutral. “Well, Commander, you’re just about on the Assassin. I’d pop off a champagne bottle, but I’ve come down with a terminal case of ‘cannot be assed.’”

Eliza shook her head, grinning fondly. “Shen?” On the other side of the Bridge, at her own console, Lily looked up. “The package ready for prime time?”

Lily nodded. “I added in a few things after I presented it to you, but based on testing, it  _ should _ work as intended. With maybe a surprise or two, but surprises in our favor.”

Satisfied, Eliza turned back towards the screen. “Fal-Mai. I hope you won’t find my soldiers wanting.”

“ _ I as well, Commander. _ ”

 

* * *

 

Dimensional shifting was a hard thing to get used to, as it turned out. Even if Sherry had felt it before, it still didn’t make her nearly fall on her ass any less.

The rest of the squad had a similar experience, outside of SYN, who passively observed the area. It was much like the Hunter’s Inner Sanctum—but it lacked the raised platform in the middle. Instead, two braziers burned with spectral, purple fire. Chest-high decorations were spaced out like the pews of a church, six in all. Without the middle platform in the way, it gave the area a very open feel...

... and allowed Menace to quickly lay their eyes on the Assassin.

She sat, lotus-position, at the same raised platform her brother had before. Her Sarcophagus loomed behind her, still cloaked in purple energy. Fal-Mai herself opened her eyes as Menace saw her, moving to stand. “At last,” she breathed, looking them head-on, “a true fight. You will not find me as a prize to be taken, XCOM. Instead, you shall find my blade at your backs. You  _ will _ not be successful today.”

Mox, at the front of the squad, stepped forward. “Assassin Neylor. I believe you will find us as harbingers of justice—and takers of the Elders’ children.”

Fal-Mai’s expression twisted into disgust. “ _ Pratal Mox. _ The Commander has saved me the trouble of hunting you down personally again. When I purge all of you, I will find Betos and let her know how her Champion failed her.”

With that, the Assassin faded from sight, leaving no more room for commentary. While the squad scanned, Mox kept a level head. “Menace One-Five, assume cover.”

“ _ Mox is correct. _ ” The Commander came in crystal clear. Seems the communication channel the Hunter had opened for her was still up—or maybe Mordenna had worked some magic. “ _ Stagger yourselves. Loose circle—and have SYN stand in the middle. _ ” When the squad went to cover, Eliza came in again—over Banel’s headset exclusively. “ _ Baal. Prime and throw a grenade a safe distance from the squad. You don’t have to prime it through the launcher, necessarily. _ ”

Banel immediately clued into what the Commander intended, and took his grenade launcher off his back anyway. Wordlessly, he loaded it with one of his Plasma Grenades, primed it, and shot it towards a good guess of where the Assassin was.

The grenade exploded, the sound reverberating through the area. To the right of it, in cover, the Assassin’s cloak peeled off her as she clutched her head. Banel holstered his grenade launcher and lugged around his minigun. “Assassin located,” he deadpanned.

“ _ Menace One-Five, engage! _ ”

“ _ Dirty, Commander. _ ” Mordenna, providing the running commentary as usual. “ _ But effective. _ ”

Moody was the first to pop off a shot, and Fal-Mai twisted almost unnaturally to avoid the lance of plasma that screamed towards her. She molded to her cover afterwards, now having a bead on the squad’s sight. Gathering what psionic power she possessed into her hands, she called to the fold of the Void and the Network— _ reinforcements. _

Three Stun Lancers appeared next to her in her cover, and judging by the decorations on them, they were a cut above the rest. Wordlessly, they peeled out of cover, employing some of their own flexibility and swiftness to avoid the incoming fire from SYN. Two settled into better cover, still near their Chosen. The third, instead, set its sights on Edgar and his position on the side of the group. It charged at him, baton brandished and crackling with voltage.

Edgar listened as it sprinted for him... and calmly stood, even as it bore down upon him. As it moved to jab him, he stepped to the side, grabbing its weapon arm and twisting it. “I’ve fought you lot before,” he croaked. “You’re all so predictable. Someone as blind as I can read you.” With that, Nevermore lunged forward and proved how unnaturally sharp his beak really was, jamming it right through the Lancer’s throat. It crumpled to the floor, and it wasn’t long before it stopped moving. Edgar went back to crouching in his cover, with his front and Nevermore’s beak painted orange.

Sherry, meanwhile, had her sights set on the other Stun Lancers. She wasn’t about to have them knock out any of her squad. Nodding to her GREMLIN, it flew off... and dipped sharply, just in time to avoid a thrown knife from the Assassin. On it went, unimpeded, until it reached one of the Lancers. With a shuddering discharge, the trooper was shocked into standing—right in time for Sherry to shoot it clean in the head.

With two out of three down, SYN instead opted to focus on the Assassin herself, still glued to her cover. He leveled his gun and the barrage began. If she wanted to move, she’d have to chance moving between the gunfire, even with her cloak up.

Mox nodded to Banel, and Banel fired on the last Stun Lancer. Only a few glancing shots hit off it—but the distraction was what Mox wanted. He reached forward and fired off the grappling hook of his Ripjack, nailing the Stun Lancer’s side. With a yank, he dragged it towards him, and a swift downwards flourish of his blade was all it took. The Assassin’s guard was eliminated.

Another measured peek out of cover was seen from the Assassin, managing it through the plasma streaking around her. That man that had been identified on cameras... there he stood. The  _ Raven King, _ as she’d overheard. As interesting as he was, she couldn’t let him live. If he were allowed to temper his powers...

In a split second, the Assassin made her decision. Doing an acrobatic roll from her cover—moving between the beams of plasma—she then broke out into a sprint, peeling her katana out of its sheath. As quick as she ran, she left Menace scrambling to provide reaction fire, and soon she was upon Edgar.

Edgar himself was desperately backing up, but he could hear the alien metal of her blade cutting through the air towards him. He’d be cut diagonally in half—and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Nevermore, on the other hand? With a flap of his wings, he dismounted from Edgar, the force of his takeoff pushing Edgar off-balance. The Assassin’s blade cut across his front, tearing clean through his armor and coat; but it was far from the lethal blow it would have been, and Edgar fell to the floor as he let out a yelp of pain. She’d still gotten him, as the quickly-seeping blood attested.

The Assassin turned to the mutated raven just in time to see him glow, and feel a point-blank Soulfire scorch her. Quickly resuming her wits, she darted from her position, leaping into some high cover and disappearing behind it. Nevermore was at Edgar’s side again, wings raised threateningly as Edgar scrambled back into a better position, wincing as he disturbed his wound.

Sherry made short work of recalling her GREMLIN and sending it back over to Edgar, the healing spray stopping the bleeding and even starting the scabbing process. SYN’s sight remained trained on the Assassin’s column. They couldn’t see her from this angle, so rest of the squad reloaded as Eliza’s voice came in. “ _ SYN, bomb her position. She’s being awfully quiet. _ ”

“Affirmative. Launching BIT.” As directed, SYN took ahold of his BIT, and with a mighty lob, sent it careening towards the pillar. Once it hit the ground, it exploded—non-lethally to itself—eliciting a ghastly scream out of Fal-Mai. Purple wisps of psionic energy bled out from behind the column. No Harbor Wave was to be summoned today.

Clutching one of her blast wounds, the Assassin weighed her options. The constant abuse of her weakness was going to prove fatal if she did nothing about it—but if she attempted to gun for the Grenadier, it would merely send her back to the void by the rest of the squad’s hands. Her other hand moved to a grenade on her own belt. Perhaps now was the time to test out her new gadget.

A moment passed, during which Edgar looked over his wound. God, it smarted... but it could’ve been so much worse. Once again, he found himself owing more and more to his companion He offered an appreciative nod to Nevermore... and too late, heard a clink nearby—a small object hitting the ground. He scrambled back. “ _ Grenade! _ ”

Before the squad could react, the device exploded—into smoke. It blanketed the area and was thick to an almost choking degree. SYN wheeled around, knowing this was the moment the Assassin would strike. Over his comm link, he heard the voice of the Hunter, declaring that  _ someone _ was going to perish. His processes went at work, calculating the most probable squad member the Chosen would target. He turned towards Banel, who was staggering out of the smoke. Of course. Explosions, her weakness. She would want to dispose of the specialist.

That was when the Assassin struck.

The screeching of bending metal and grinding steel ripped through the air, followed by warning blares. SYN cast his optics down, and there the Assassin was, with her sword lodged to the hilt in his chassis. She regarded him and his new structural deficiency coldly. Systems were failing, his circuitry was frying, and she had scored a clean hit to his main core. He wasn’t long for this world. Streams of data flooded him and amongst them, he issued one final command.

The Assassin had no time to react when SYN’s arms flew at her, hands clamping around her neck and immobilizing her as he dropped his cannon. SYN was shaking violently, but the hold around her throat remained firm and strong. Nearby, Nevermore was putting his impressive wingspan to use and dispelling the smoke, one gust at a time. Suffocating, the Assassin withdrew her blade, coughing and trying to gingerly work her weapon to cut open the SPARK’s hands.

But the process was far too slow and she was making too much noise. Through the smoke, Sherry saw her hazy outline and heard her gagging. With a cold, critical eye, she took aim. Her weapon kicked, plasma shot forward, and the Assassin was down one life, up one hole in her head. Her body teleported out, and not a second too soon—SYN, with a mournful groaning of metal, collapsed to the floor.

The smoke cleared fully, revealing the scene to the rest of the squad. There was no banter to be had—just the grim realization that they were now down one member of Menace One-Five. Sherry’s face dropped from the cold visage she had put forth. SYN had been in close scrapes before, and he’d saved or protected the squad countless times. Just a SPARK, yes, but a member of the team.

She didn’t hang on her melancholy long. Sherry let her anger come forth and she wheeled around to the Assassin’s Sarcophagus, which was now bare and gathering energy. “Squad, fire on the slab!” Without waiting to see if everyone else would, Sherry buried her last few rounds in her mag into the smooth metal.

The rest of Menace One-Five wasn’t far behind her, though. Banel switched to his full-auto and unloaded. Mox and Moody peppered it with the last rounds in their guns, and even Edgar took a few carefully-aimed shots.

The Assassin’s voice filtered into their ears. “ _ A good effort, XCOM, but without one of your greatest assets, how will you fare? _ ”

Just then, one of the platforms in the room lit up, and an organized guard came through—a Heavy MEC, an Officer, and two Stun Lancers. Both parties scrambled into better positions.

Up in the Avenger, Eliza watched the whole scene with a grim gaze. To lose SYN was a heavy blow. They had a backup SPARK in Julian... but to lose a face of the team like that would no doubt weigh heavily on everyone. Rosa especially. Hopefully they could do something with his parts... not to mention that without his firepower, it was unlikely they’d destroy the Sarcophagus in time. 

“Y’know, for a bucket of bolts, I think SYN was pretty neat. Probably didn’t deserve getting impaled like that.” Eliza turned towards the Hunter, who was similarly watching the scene as she was, his previous levity gone. He locked eyes with Eliza. “It’ll be interesting to see how you pilot around that, Commander.”

“There’s hope,” Lily interjected from the other side of the room, “I’ve got a backup data core in SYN for a reason. If the one in his head managed to get enough of the transfer before he... got deactivated, I might be able to restore a previous version or the like.” 

That took a weight off Eliza’s chest and she looked back towards the screen. Another wave of ADVENT forces had come to face Menace One-Five—and the energy around the Sarcophagus was closing fast. SYN could be rebuilt, but if she let anyone else die this mission, it’d seriously hurt the idea of turning the Assassin... as if it didn’t have enough against it already. The Commander saw Edgar aim at the Sarcophagus. “Menace One-Five, prioritize taking out those forces over shooting the Sarcophagus!”

Edgar’s arm faltered, but then he aimed over at an Officer, eyes glowing behind the blindfold. A crack of the Shadowkeeper later and there was one less ADVENT to worry about. With luck, she could have the squad dispatch the guard by the time the Assassin came to life again.

“So, Eliza.” Once again, the Hunter caught her attention. “Off the books. Which means don’t scream the answer into your mic, but what are you doing to capture Fal-Mai?”

Eliza kept watching the screen as she muted her comms, making sure the situation on the ground didn’t get out of hand while she was talking. Things were progressing well—Banel was now substituting as squad tank and thus attracting attention and taking hits, but his armor was holding. “The Alloy Cuffs Edgar’s holding. Shen could probably explain them better than I could.”

Lily took the hint. “Basically, they’re handcuffs—but the instant they’re slapped on the Assassin, an interlocking mesh will spread over her body and immobilize her. There’s... a lot of specifics to go through, and it’s the project I was handling yesterday, if you remember that.”

“Sure do!” The Hunter replied chipperly. “Still should’ve let me look at it. Would’ve put in a thing or two to really make it effective against her. Because, come to think of it—”

“ _ Before you ask _ , yes. There’s measures that, theoretically, should counteract her cloak. The cuffs themselves can light up pretty brightly and even emit sound to disrupt her invisibility.”

The Hunter gave an impressed hum. “Lily Shen, you never cease to be interesting.”

“Should I be worried about that?”

“Yeah, probably.”

Eliza shook her head, returning her attention to the action. The Commander watched as the Sarcophagus became bathed in the purple light of psionics once more—and as the last ADVENT of the guard fell. “Good work, Menace One-Five, prepare to re-engage.”

Sherry looked to the sky, seeing the psionics from the Assassin’s Sarcophagus coalesce above a certain platform. Her head snapped to the Alloy Cuffs, then to Mox. “Mox, toss a grenade at that platform!” She pointed to make her call clear.

Mox hesitated for just a second, only enough to ensure it would go off on the right timing. With a pin pulled and an expert lob, the Plasma Grenade settled on the middle of the platform. The energies grew brighter and landed, and in a column of light, the Assassin descended once more. The grenade went off.

The scorch of plasma and the  _ sound _ of being at ground zero of the blast sent the Assassin staggering back, giving another ungodly scream as her armor shredded and melted. The window it created showed just how adverse her body was to explosives—something Banel grimly noted before he lifted up his Beam Cannon and fired on her with the last of his mag.

Back Fal-Mai went to the Void, and back the psionic energies of her Sarcophagus retreated. Menace One-Five reloaded—except for Edgar, who dashed up and unclipped the Alloy Cuffs from his belt, handing them off to Mox. “‘ere. I think you’re better at close range with the Assassin, anyhow.”

Mox nodded, taking them and clipping them where his grenade used to hang, before firing on the slab of metal. The percussion of plasma rang through the air—and soon, the onslaught proved destructive enough. Once again, cracks formed on the surface of the object, each successive splinter echoing louder and louder. Pinkish-purple sparks flew between the lines of light the fractures made, and the pieces of the Assassin’s Sarcophagus shuddered violently, but held.

“ _ Excellent work, Menace. Now, look sharp, and take the Assassin alive. _ ”

Mox nodded again at the Commander’s instruction, and once more he looked for the gathering energies that foretold Fal-Mai’s return. The squad backed off of the platform she then reappeared at. Her armor was fully repaired, but Mox’s sharp eyes could spot the waver in her stance as she regarded XCOM. Her blast wounds must’ve not entirely healed.

She took a tentative step back, eyes on Mox. “ _ XCOM. _ You have accomplished severing me from the Elders—and to what end? To capture me? To lord me over Them as your new prize?” She stopped, hesitating in her commentary. When the Assassin next spoke, her voice was softer. “They are no longer speaking to me... by choice, or otherwise. I cannot help but agree. One last battle, XCOM. One of us shall perish this day.”

Staggering back one more step, she dashed at Mox. No acrobatics. None of her wicked speed. Just her brandished katana and a sight trained on the Skirmisher. With such telegraphing, Mox found it  _ suspiciously _ easy to parry her resulting swipe—disarming her with his right arm, holstering his gun and grabbing the cuffs with his left. He lunged forward and spun her, using her momentum to do so. With a quick flourish, the cuffs locked on her wrists.

A spider web-like mesh started to spread over her body, hardening as the filaments connected. Mox forced her to her knees in time for it to reach her legs, locking her in a kneeling position. Her burning gaze bored into her captor as the coat stopped just shy of her face.

“A mission well-done, Menace,” Bradford chimed in. He’d seemed to have been keeping quiet during the running commentary. “Be wary of the Assassin—otherwise, bring her in.”

Eliza nodded to him, straightening. “Whoever has arms free, bring in what you can of SYN. We might be able to bring him back yet. Get the Assassin’s weapons, as well.” As the squad on the ground prepared to haul, she looked to Mordenna. He looked like he was juggling something in his head—likely the same thing Eliza was. Which was, when faced with a squad with a member down and starting to run on fumes... the Assassin chose to openly, clumsily charge the one person holding the key to her capture. It was almost as if...

The Hunter’s expression darkened, right up until his eyes flitted to Eliza. He shrugged, looking to the side. Eliza wasn’t about to talk about any of it here, or anything else she had been thinking over. That could be saved for later, at a less populated time.

“Two down,” Bradford muttered, “one to go.”

For a second, Eliza could swear she heard Mordenna whisper “they aren’t going to like that.”


	13. Punishment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jax is summoned to the Meeting Hall in wake of the Assassin's kidnapping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter has very heavy depictions of abuse and the beginning of PTSD. This chapter is not ESSENTIAL for understanding the rest of the plot moving forward, but it is important for understanding why Jax does what he does later on in the story. I'm sincerely sorry to anyone who has suffered abuse and cannot read this chapter for their health.

When the Warlock was called into the Meeting Hall, a storm of emotions brewed inside of him.

He had felt, not long ago, his sister die. Twice. With them spaced in such quick succession, he could only imagine what had transpired—and why he was alone, and  _ called here _ today. But fear still gnawed at his gut, and he dipped into the Network. Fal-Mai had died  _ twice. _ He had no true attachment to his siblings, he told himself. He just... had to know. He had to know if they had really killed her.

It took a minute, but a video feed played back across his mind. Once again, the sight of the storage room, light filtering in from the ceiling and debris scattered on the floor. Menace One-Five, marching in, the various members hauling their destroyed SPARK, Fal-Mai’s weapons—and Fal-Mai herself, bound. Into the sky and out of view, they ascended on black cords, and Jax stopped viewing the feed. That was all he needed to know. She was alive. Captured, yes... but alive.

... but why did he care so much? At least he could justify it for the Assassin. For all of her naivety, for her occasional mistakes and misconceptions, she had been loyal in service to the Elders. If pressed, Jax would regard her with respect. To lose her... and to be left alone with the Elders? This was a dream Jax had before, to be the sole recipient of the Elders’ attention. To show that he alone was worthy. But, now? When the Assassin had been taken, and he knew what had happened when his brother had been kidnapped?

The fear in his stomach was swiftly being replaced by a heavy sense of dread, and he tried to shake it off. He’d attempted to help the Assassin, after all—and Father was witness to that! Father had stopped him. Father would understand, and he would not be punished... right?

Maybe he could still do something. If XCOM could take, so could he. The plans for the cannon Mordenna had wanted to employ still existed. The design could be used. He could siege the Avenger and rescue the Assassin, at least!

His train of thought was interrupted as he felt the Void swell with sheer power. The Elders were approaching, and shortly, the psionic flames burned brighter at Their coming. Respectfully, Jax assumed his usual bow. They would understand. He could leave today, unmarked.

The presence of the Elders reached a crescendo, and Jax could feel Their very being washing over him. But... there was not as much comfort to be had, as he had felt before. Even at the first...  _ punishment _ , They had been comforting at first.  _ It is alright, _ he assured himself. He had this.

“ _ Our child... you must understand why you have been summoned here today. _ ” The bass-filled thrum of Father’s voice led the Elders, and the Warlock took solace in it. “ _ We see your grief for losing your sister... and your plans to rescue her? _ ”

At the Elders’ question, he nodded. “It is a great tragedy that XCOM has taken no less than two of Your children. I would like to remedy this and—“

The voice of one of the Elders burned in his head—Helena. They... were no longer speaking as one? “ **_Warlock._ ** _ Why did you not prevent such a thing in the first place? _ ”

Jax looked up, confusion evident. Did She not know? “I... I attempted. Did Father not tell you He stilled my hand?”

The very air in the Meeting Hall came to a sudden stillness. Jax could feel the signature of the Elders quiet to a deathly hush. The dread that had come before returned in full force. He shouldn’t have said anything. He should have kept quiet and let the Elders speak, he should’ve never—

Cronus took over once more—overbearingly so. The orchestra of His signature swelled and rang off Jax’s mind. “ **_Jax-Rai Tessura,_ ** _ do you take  _ **_enjoyment_ ** _ in defacing me? _ ”

Jax’s heart seized inside of his chest. That was an  _ accusation. _ The Warlock would never seek to deface the Elders, and surely Father knew that. Then why was He asking such a damning and demeaning thing? Jax shook his head, balling his hands into fists nervously. “No, Father! I do not mean to insult You, nor would I like to do so.” But... even as his fear tried to withhold what he said next, Jax had to know. Surely the Elders were unified, yes? “But... You did not tell the others—?”

The image of the Elders split, a second coming forward and bearing down upon Jax. The sheer magnitude of Cronus’s power forced him into bowing his head, and he found himself trembling under the wrath He was exuding. “ **_Dare you lie to my face, wretched son?!_ ** _ I owe you  _ **_no_ ** _ explanations! You should be glad I do not unmake you on the spot for your ignorant presumptions!  _ **_Do you know how easy it would be to let you rot?_ ** ”

The Warlock could only shrink away at the onslaught, fear overtaking him as he started to curl inwards on himself. He was so, so frightened. This... this couldn’t be happening. Father  _ loved _ him, and this could not be any shade of love. Did he really step so far in asking a question? Did Father hate him now? So frightened was he, in the moment and at that prospect, that past his squeezed eyelids he could feel a tear form and drop to the floor.

Suddenly, hands made of burning psionics gripped his shoulders, and Jax’s eyes flew open. Cronus was forcing him to kneel upright with two of His hands, and a third shot out from under His cloak and clamped down on Jax’s chin. The seething resentment from Him only blazed harder as Jax was regarded with fury. “ **_What. Was that._ ** ” 

Jax found himself lifted from the floor by his chin, dangling limply as he trembled hard. The grip on his shoulders and chin was crushing, but he knew he could not lift a single hand against Cronus. “ **_WEAKNESS. I DID NOT TEACH YOU SUCH PATHETICNESS! YOU HAVE NOT LEARNED ANYTHING FROM YOUR LAST PUNISHMENT. DO YOU SEEK TO ANGER ME?! HAVE YOU LEARNED SUCH MASOCHISM FROM YOUR HEATHEN BROTHER?!_ ** ”

Jax squeezed his eyes shut again, desperately trying to stem the tide of tears that threatened to drown him. He had never cried in front of the Elders before—just in the safety of his Priests, or Maria. But even as he tried to stop himself, his throat constricted and his next breath attempted at being a sob. 

Cronus shook him, His grip burning harder. “ **_ANSWER ME!!_ ** ”

The Warlock could only shake his head under the bare wrath of his Father, words failing him. It wasn’t enough. Jax was lifted a bit more before being hurled forcefully to the ground, face pressing against the writhing, alien metal the floor was made of. He could feel the swell of power before  _ it _ happened again.

The pillar of flaying energy hit his back in force, and quashed any notion of him even supporting himself under the barrage. It was hotter,  _ tens _ of times more burning than the last time, feeling like it was searing him to his very soul. Jax’s clawed gauntlets scraped against the ground, leaving nail marks around his emblem on his podium. He let out a guttural cry with the air that was being forced out of his lungs, tears drying up on his face from the sheer heat of the psionics bearing down on him.

Then, it split. One main pillar remained on his back—but sections of it parted, arcing around and striking his sides, his arms, his legs, even the back of his head. It was too much, all at once, so  _ overwhelming _ . At this point, the scattered remnants of his thoughts disappeared from his mind, and the only thing he could process with clarity was the  _ agony, _ of how each strike felt even worse than the last. His chest heaved, trying desperately to bring in air, his insides feeling like they were being scorched from how hot it was around him.

It was too much. It was  _ too much. _ All Jax could do was desperately babble pleas to  _ stop _ , to  _ please stop _ , devolving into cries of  _ it hurts. _ There was nothing else he could do; his muscles would not cooperate, and he couldn’t even manage the stance he had before under the power of it. His back burned, so much, to the point that Jax was convinced that Cronus had burned right down to his bones.

All at once, it stopped. The power against his back dissipated. The hall was silent once more.

But Jax would not rise this time. He could still feel it, on his back. His skin still felt like it was cooking, almost bubbling from the aftershock. Jax took in a shuddering breath, silently sobbing it out. He pressed his gauntlets to his face, to hide the tears that once more came—but he knew that Cronus most likely saw them again. Punishment would come. Punishment  _ was _ coming.

Yet... it did not. Jax waited for it, spurred into muteness. There was no more flaying, simply the silence of the hall and the vague register of the presence in front of him. He chanced, just for a second, to not perceive only his own pain. He could pick out...  _ four _ distinct signatures in his mind’s eye: Cronus, Odin, Helena, and  _ Argus. _ Cronus’s was still loud, still quaking with fury... but it was decreasing by the second. Argus seemed to be currently engaged with Him, the lone presence of Their signature standing out amongst the rest of the Elders. Were They... calming Him?

He did not have to wonder long. The focus of the Elders’ presence shifted to him once more, and it was  _ comforting. _ The sheer relief flowed through Jax and his next sob was  _ audible, _ and he flinched, waiting for  _ some _ kind of punishment.

Nothing. The Elders spoke—lead by Argus. “ _ Warlock Tessura. Stand, if you can. _ ”

With shaking limbs and downcast eyes, Jax trembled into his usual kneeling position. He had to restrain every urge to hug himself for comfort, and kept his head down.

“ _ Elder Cronus is only angry because He  _ **_loves_ ** _ you, Jax-Rai. _ ” Argus’s tone was soothing, and Jax found himself taking in the inflection of Their voice. They were a rarity among these meetings. Was the force of Cronus’s punishment enough to draw Them here...? “ _ Weakness is easily exploitable on the battlefield. XCOM would not hesitate to punish such, and it is why He becomes so heated. He does not wish to see you suffer at their hands! Do you understand? _ ”

He didn’t. He didn’t at all. He did not understand how such a brutal display would at all fortify him against XCOM. It only seemed to exist to hurt him. Jax couldn’t understand why Cronus would even do such a thing if He claimed to love him. But to say he didn’t understand... that would undoubtedly seal his fate. Elder Argus was extending a chance, a rare moment of even interacting with any of the Chosen. If Jax chose to bat away this olive branch...

Jax nodded, and when he spoke, his voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. “I... I u-understand, Elder Argus.”

The signature of the Elders further calmed, and there was silence. More comfortable, this time. Again, They seemed to be talking amongst Themselves—or maybe simply Argus to Cronus. Jax could only timidly wonder what was taking place. Until the Elders wished not to speak with him anymore, he was trapped where he was. But still, he found himself mulling over what They might be speaking about. Anything to forget...

He felt Their attention turn to him once more. “ _ Your intentions to rescue your sister are noble, Warlock Tessura. If it further motivates you into reclaiming the Commander, consider it one of your goals. As for your brother... _ ” Jax waited for Their tone to shift, but no such thing happened. Elder Argus remained level-headed. “ _ I do not imagine he will be as privy as to returning to Our embrace. But, knowing his machinations, this may be a heavy smokescreen. Capture him, learn of his intentions, but if circumstances prove dire, do not hesitate in ending him. Is this clear? _ ”

Jax nodded again. He did not think about what Elder Argus was saying. He merely heard, and nodded. He could not think. He had to forget.

Argus continued. “ _ We shall begin looking into a method of preventing the device XCOM used on Assassin Neylor from working on you.  _ **_We_ ** _ love you, Jax-Rai, and to see you fall as well to XCOM’s prying hands would break Our hearts. Each meeting, each talk, every word We speak is Our love for you. You are Our eldest child, Our first blessing upon this Earth. _ ” The Elders’ signature reached out and soothingly caressed him. Jax merely let Them do as They wished. “ _ You are gifted. You are  _ **_Chosen._ ** _ You cannot fail. _ ”

The Warlock inclined his head in favor of nodding again. “ _ You may go. We have much to discuss. _ ” 

With that, he felt the pull of the Void. Much like the Elders’ attempt at affection, he let it happen, feeling himself shifted and ushered away from the Meeting Hall, through the Void. The trip was short, and left him in his exact position, in front of his Sarcophagus. Silence hung in the air.

“Warlock Tessura...?”

That voice. Jax’s eyes focused as he looked up, and at the end of his room stood Archbishop Maria, with more than a few Priests huddled around her. Though her face was covered by her helmet, her signature rang of concern that was matched by her sisters. She could probably  _ feel _ the stress rolling off of him in waves. Perhaps she even felt his... his...

_ Punishment. _ Jax staggered into standing, trying desperately to walk forwards before collapsing to his knees, trembling. What had just  _ happened _ hit him in force. The boiling, the flaying, the  **_punishment._ **

_ There can be only  _ **_one_ ** _ reason. _

**_ANSWER ME!!_ **

Both phrases screamed across his consciousness and he was there again, under the  _ fury _ of the Elders, his failures, his regrets, his wanting to do better, his pain his hurt his fear—

Signatures that were not the Elders crowded around him, with a brightly shining one right in front of him. Jax couldn’t see for a moment or so, but when he regained his vision, Maria was in front of him. His other senses began to return; there was a pressure around his body—Maria was hugging him. His  _ Priests _ were hugging him. His face was hot, his face was  _ wet. _

No. No more tears, tears were  _ weakness _ . He wanted to wipe them away, do  _ something _ to dispel them, but the Priests around him had hugged his arms to his sides. All Jax could do was mouth a silent “no” as more formed, streaming down his face. Why was he so weak? Why did he have to disappoint Them so? Was there nothing he could do right? Who was he if he could not do right by the Elders?

It was only then that he could feel his followers’ psionic signatures pressing against his own, practically  _ begging _ for access. Maria’s Solace was washing against him, unable to calm his own signature with the walls he was putting up. To let them in... to let them  _ know _ what had happened in the Meeting Hall would further disgrace himself to Them, wouldn’t it? He couldn’t handle being more of a failure. The tears surged. But he couldn’t handle being  _ alone _ even more. A childish part of him cried out at the thought of pushing them away, of telling them to leave him in peace.

He wanted comfort. He wanted somebody who would hold him and say it was ok. He wanted something the Elders would not give him.

Jax sobbed, and his walls came crashing down. He leaned forward, slumping into Maria, feeling as his gathered Priests—herself included—dipped into his signature, sampling the  _ memories _ that threatened to consume him. He could finally hear the soft gasps that rang around him as his followers found out what had happened no less than five minutes ago.

Then, for the briefest of moments, anger flashed through their signatures. Jax tensed up and another sob wracked his body. “ _ I’m sorry—! _ ”

The group hug around him tightened and his Priests whispered hurried assurances that he hadn’t done anything wrong, no, they were just... They couldn’t complete the statement. To be angry at the  _ Elders _ as one of their servants... It was unthinkable. Then again, Jax had thought cruelty of such magnitude was unthinkable, and he saw and  _ felt _ what that had earned him.

Maria squeezed him in her embrace, one of her hands moving up to his hair and petting it. “Jax-Rai. You are here, you are safe. We want to help. Nothing bad is going to happen.”

No. No, that was a lie. Bad things had happened, bad things were happening, bad things  _ were _ going to happen. “Then  _ why _ ,” he choked out, worming his arms free and clutching her, “why would Th-They do that? Wh-why would They hurt me? I didn’t—I didn’t do anything bad.” His eloquence was gone, and he hadn’t the mind to bring it back. “I just... Maria, it  _ hurt _ , why...” Jax choked back a sob, giving up on speaking. His signature was a storm of negative thoughts and he fully collapsed against his Archbishop, shoulders heaving.

Maria’s Solace pulsed, and he hiccupped, a bit of the edge being taken off the storm. He just wanted to be  _ alright. _ This was terrifying. But... He had his Priests here. Maria moved her hand to the back of his head and pressed him against her chest, where Jax could hear her strong heartbeat. He focused on that. He was not in the Meeting Hall. He was here, surrounded by love. Love that was different than what... what the Elders had claimed They felt for him. This love was soft.

His next sob was quieter, and his hug on Maria went from less crushing to more self-reassuring. Maria carded through his hair. It was a while before she spoke, as if she was considering her words carefully. “You didn’t,” she decided on, softly. “You did not deserve such a thing.”

Jax stopped in his sobbing. Did... Maria just speak against Them? At his silence, she continued. “To be flayed so brutally... your back is still searingly hot! Your armor has been warped!” Her heartbeat was speeding up. “Your skin... oh, by the Elders!” She reached out to the other Priests. “Sisters, please, forgive my heretical speaking, but this was not warranted! They know how badly it hurt him and yet... and yet They performed such cruelty again!”

The Priests were silent... but there was no dissent in their signatures. Jax felt a hand or two probe his back and quickly retreat. The burning hadn’t stopped. “Archbishop Maria...” One of them began. “He... he might be wounded, we have to check the site. If They truly used such force against him...”

The other members of his congregation rallied around that. Jax was still hung up on what was happening—his tears were still flowing, but he’d stopped sobbing. Were the Priests—not only them, but his  _ Archbishop _ —speaking out against what They had done? The storm was starting to break, but it still went on. His shoulders heaved and he took in a quick breath. “I... surely I deserve it if They did such a thing...”

He could feel Maria shake her head. “From what I— _ we _ have seen? You have done nothing but your best as one of the Elders’ Chosen. I will not speak long on the topic if you do not wish me to, but...”

Jax didn’t say anything to that, but he felt like he had to. The Elders had to do it for a reason. Now that the storm was clearing, rationality returned. Maybe... maybe it was a  _ bit _ overkill, but he  _ had _ spoken out against Cronus. All he had to have done was stay silent, and the meeting would have been short, and without punishment. There was still the matter of his back, and if the Elders’ rage had been bad enough to warp the astral metal his armor was made of? “... my back.”

“Right!” Maria held him closer, sending a short pulse to the other Priests. Soon they were at work undoing the clasps of his armor, peeling it off. He winced as the motion of pulling it away brought pain, and the Priests gasped once again. Maria tensed up. The room was silent.

Jax’s breath stilled. It... it couldn’t be that bad, yes? He was Chosen. Surely it was just mending before their eyes and they were marvelling at it, right? “Priests. What... what is the matter?”

Maria’s signature thrummed with righteous anger. “... They have  _ branded _ you. There is a wound covering your whole back and it is  _ not regenerating. _ It is not bleeding, thank... thank the  _ heavens, _ it’s cauterized.” One of her hands moved and swept aside his hair. “I and my sisters will do what we can, but...” Her anger cooled, replaced by quiet horror.

She spoke no more, her other hand pressing ever so lightly against his back. More joined it in various places, and he couldn’t help but suck in a breath at the stinging. Their signatures swelled brightly and their psionics hummed as they were put to work. Led by Maria, they bound themselves together into one force, and Jax could feel the burning sensation beginning to abate, his skin crawling not unpleasantly as they were supposedly mending it.

He simply remained limp against Maria, closing his eyes and taking in deep breaths. The Elders... had done enough damage that his regeneration was, at the least, having trouble fixing him. It was taking the force of outside psionics just to make it right.  _ But it wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t spoken out against Them, _ he reminded himself. The Elders had Their reasons, and the prophecies he had heard in whispers in the past had spoken of a world-ending terror. Anything the Elders did was justified against total oblivion.

Anything They did was justified. He would simply have to bear the marks of his insubordination.

Eventually the calming tide of psionics over his back stopped. “We’ve done what we can,” Maria began, “but... They have severely burned you. I do not think it will fully heal.”

“That is understandable,” he murmured flatly. “I acted out against Them. I spoke out of turn. I was lucky that They did not unmake me where I stood.”

“Jax-Rai...” Maria swallowed. “My Chosen.”

“I deserved it, Archbishop.”

The room was quiet once again, none of his followers willing to speak out against them. He took in a calming breath, and sighed it out. “Bring me my lounge clothes. My armor is likely still scorching... but I shall still use it, as a reminder of my mistakes. I will wait until it has cooled.” He gave Maria a weak squeeze, then uneasily moved to stand. The Priests backed off around him, rising as he did. He wasn’t meeting anyone’s gaze. A thought occurred to him, and he closed his eyes. “... if the Hunter is working with XCOM, it is likely that he will be sharing the location of my Stronghold with them. We may not get forewarning in the form of XCOM’s scouts. We must prepare for an incursion at any moment.”

He opened his eyes in time to see Maria nod. “What would you have of us, Warlock Tessura?”

He finally met her perceived gaze. Jax’s shoulders slumped. “... you, and your sisters, will be somewhere safe when they invade.”

Maria’s postured stiffened. “My Warlock, surely you are not suggesting we are to sit on the sidelines as XCOM comes for you?”

“No, I am not suggesting it.” He set his shoulders back and his gaze hardened. “I am  _ commanding _ it. I will not have XCOM senselessly slaughter you all on their warpath to kidnap me. You have my expressed permission—and my  _ orders _ —to hide.”

“And if they take you?”

Jax looked past her, eyes unfocusing as the tension left his shoulders. “I would rather have all of you alive than dead. Understandably, my severance from the Network will affect every living Priest on it. You may seek to rejoin the Elders again, if you wish.” He chuckled bitterly. “Or, if you seek capture to remain with me, approach XCOM if I have been taken.”

Maria started to say something quite a few times—but then, all at once, she was calm, as if something occurred to her. Similarly, the Priests around her relaxed. She bowed deeply. “As you wish, my Chosen. We will stay safe when XCOM comes. If you have no more need of me, I shall go to making evacuation plans for when XCOM arrives.”

“Other than my robes? You are free to leave, Maria.”

She nodded, rising from her bow. Maria took the chestpiece of Jax’s armor from the three Priests that had been holding it and walked back towards the platform, the rest of his followers trailing after her. He watched them leave, thoughts at a low hum.

He’d been punished. Branded. His Priests, his  _ Archbishop _ were speaking heresy. Now, they were suddenly calm at being told to stand aside. Jax turned back towards his Sarcophagus, the otherworldly energies bleeding off of it, the ghost of his own form hanging in front of it. Something only his gifted senses could perceive, he knew. Even if he wished to leave...

He dashed his thoughts. There was nothing more to be done.


	14. Assurance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eliza meets with the Assassin and has a chat with her.

Thanks to the circumstances of her capture, the Commander was able to see the Assassin a lot sooner than she had her brother.

Instead of waiting on her to come out of a psionics-induced coma, all Eliza had to wait on was them securing her inside of her Holding Cell. Progress was going at a breakneck pace on the room; the Assassin’s Cell had been done in time for her to be captured, and the framework was started for the Warlock’s Cell. The room itself had some defence systems installed in case of emergency, as well. Eliza had to thank Lily when she got the chance. That girl was an absolute wiz at this.

With that in mind, as soon as Eliza got word that Fal-Mai had been moved to her cell, she had started making her way to the rooms. After all, no time to strike like when the iron was hot. She could get some initial things out of the way now and then leave the Assassin to meditate on them when she left.

But even so... that led Eliza into thinking about  _ what _ she would cover. Undoubtedly, Fal-Mai wouldn’t be as open as her brother was, as weird a statement as that was to the Commander. After all, the Assassin, by all accounts, was more fanatic about her support of the Elders. Not to the Warlock’s extent, but it would undoubtedly make this take longer than it did the first time around.

Yet... Eliza had heard what she had said on the field, had seen her  _ reactions _ to seeing her brother on XCOM’s side. That  _ punishment... _ Eliza only had vague recollections of it, as part of her time on the Network. As the Network’s main Admin for quite a while, Eliza had been allowed to dip into feeds where she pleased, all in part of gathering info for her simulations. One of Tygan’s logs on the  _ chip _ had further reinforced that. What she could recall was a column of burning, searing, psionic power, always bearing down on the Hunter.

She grimaced, still walking. “Overkill” was too light a word. Psionics of that power would undoubtedly leave scars, and with how many times Mordenna had been under that? It was a wonder he still functioned.  _ Perhaps he’s not really functioning,  _ a grim part of her mused. Well, hopefully she could get that talk with him over with sooner rather than later, when more damage might be done. Maybe a few follow up talks, as well. Her plans needn’t be rigid, and she knew that none of them 100% survived being put to action.  _ I’m used to adjusting on the fly. It should be fine.  _

Eventually, Eliza finally made it to the Chosen Holding Cells once again. The door slid open and on the other side was Shen. She was doing some of the work herself this time around, working on a floor panel by the looks of it. She looked up as Eliza came in, setting some of her tools to the side. “Hey, Commander. Here to see the Assassin?”

“Indeed I am,” Eliza replied, walking to her. “Anything I should know?”

“Well, she’s in there, for one, and she wasn’t too happy about being captured.” Lily stood up. “Not full on ‘trying-to-escape’ levels of struggle, but a few token ones, you know?” Her eyes narrowed. “She’s been a bit quiet now. You’d almost think...”

“... she  _ wanted _ to be captured?” Eliza finished for Lily. The two exchanged a glance, and it was Lily who backed down first. The Commander continued. “Regardless, as long as she’s disarmed of her main weapons, I’ll cover talking to her right now. I figure there’s a remote to go with her restraints?”

“Yep.” Shen passed Eliza a similar remote to the one that had been connected to the Hunter. “The ‘Disco Mode’ is still implanted in her cuffs, and just to be sure, I’m locking the doors to the room while you’re chatting with her.”

“Good thinking.” Eliza accepted the remote and turned towards the Assassin’s Cell. “You impress as always, Shen. I’ll be talking with the Assassin if you need me.” With that, Eliza stepped forwards, entering the door to the Assassin’s Cell. She made sure she took up the whole doorway as best she could without leaving gaps—she wouldn’t put it past Fal-Mai to try to escape even in her state.

The door closed behind her, and Eliza was greeted by an empty room. Well, the Commander had more sense than that to think the room was truly empty. Fal-Mai must’ve been hiding in her cloak, waiting to see what first move the Commander of XCOM would make. To that end, Eliza picked a corner of the room, walked to it, and sat herself down. She cleared her throat before she spoke. “Fal-Mai, I just want to talk. I’m willing to sit here until you want to.”

There was silence for a while. Eliza didn’t have much else planned today, other than a conference with Geist. She could afford to wait here. She’d already managed to squeeze in her first talk with the Prophet a little bit before she embarked on the mission to kidnap the Assassin and... that went over as well as one would expect, but Eliza managed to keep things together by the end of it. Today’s follow-up talk would hopefully go better.

Just then, the air at the opposite corner of the room shimmered, and split, revealing the Assassin. Her arms were bound behind her back and her ankles were in shackles. She wasn’t looking very pleased about her condition as she stared down at the Commander. “If your intentions are for a ‘friendly chat,’ you must excuse me if I am not so willing, over my own  _ arrangements. _ ”

Eliza gestured to her, more pointedly to her bindings. “If I took off the cuffs, would you go for a weapon we didn’t account for? After all, I know you had knives hidden in your belt. What’s to say you don’t have others stashed?”

Fal-Mai faltered at that, but she remained firm. “You have bested me, Commander. I would not go as far as to murder the person my masters so desperately seek, or so much as harm you.”

_ Desperately? _ That was a funny word to describe any effort of the Elders, from one of their Chosen that  _ wasn’t _ the Hunter. But, a thought occurred to Eliza, one born of a few... old world traits Fal-Mai seemed emblematic of. She crossed her arms loosely. “Alright. I trust you on that. But what about harming  _ yourself? _ ”

Fal-Mai didn’t respond to that. Her gaze flitted to the side and stayed there, her expression softening in uncertainty. Seems she’d caught her there. The thought of what would’ve happened if Eliza hadn’t considered that and let her out of her bonds on trust...

The Commander didn’t dwell on it, but it spurred her voice into becoming softer. “Fal-Mai. I really do want to talk and help you out.”

The Assassin shook her head, gaze trained on her again. “I cannot allow you to do that. I will not fall prey to the same brainwashing you subjected my brother to.”

Eliza quirked an eyebrow, but put it back down quickly. “‘Brainwashing?’ How do you think I’m going to brainwash you?”

“Simple. You will put the idea in my head that the Elders are my enemy and turn me against Them. I imagine my brother did not need much help with his process, but I shall not let you sway me so easily.”

Eliza shakes her head. “I can’t say I’d ‘put the idea in your head’ so much as I’d just... talk with you, and if you arrive at that conclusion? So be it. It’s the same deal I offered Mordenna; it’s the chance to fight for somebody who cares on a personal level what happens to you.”

“And further shame myself in the eyes of the Elders? If They did not wish to reclaim me now, surely They would after such heresy. They... They care for me.”

Eliza sighed, thinking on how to approach her next point carefully. “... would a kind, caring parent want to ‘reclaim’ one of their children because they were taken from them? Would a good parent want to ‘reclaim’ one of their children at all?”

Fal-Mai’s brows knitted, and she stepped further into her corner. “You could not understand Their reasons, Eliza.”

“I was a battery in their Network for  _ twenty years, _ Fal-Mai.” Eliza’s expression darkened. “I don’t want you claiming that I don’t understand. I do. I know how the Elders think.”

“You...” Fal-Mai turned her head to the side. “You may have spent longer in Their service than I, but not as one of their children. You had never done wrong.”

“Maybe I didn't. Maybe that was because I was hooked up and  _ brainwashed _ to the point where I couldn’t have acted out if I tried.”

Fal-Mai closed her eyes. “Perhaps that is more of a blessing than you may think...”

Eliza’s fists clenched and her breathing stilled. No.  _ No, it wasn’t a blessing, _ she wanted to say,  _ I was locked up for twenty years on my back, running simulations,  _ **_killing my own people._ ** _ That is the farthest thing from a blessing that it could be. _

But, Eliza understood what Fal-Mai was getting at, more than anything else. Her anger cooled and she took in a deep breath, relaxing her hands. The Assassin was actually getting at some of what the Elders treated her like. That was good. “For you to consider my situation a potential  _ blessing _ speaks of what the Elders did to you. You shouldn’t be considering a situation like mine was a blessing, if the Elders were such good parents.”

Fal-Mai grimaced for a second, before opening her eyes and looking to Eliza. “I will not let you brainwash me.”

“You were the one who considered a totally inert, submissive state to be a good thing. Wouldn’t being brainwashed also be one?”

“That was  _ different. _ ”

“ _ How so. _ ”

The Assassin shook her head again, standing up straight. “I will tolerate this interrogation no longer. This conversation is over.” With that, her shroud came over her, and the Assassin was gone from sight.

Eliza took a moment to collect her thoughts before she sighed deeply, standing up. Well, that could’ve gone worse. As it stood, she’d managed to wheedle out an admittance from Fal-Mai. She did a lot of question-dodging too, which was a hopeful sign. Maybe next time Eliza could be more gentle with things, invite some questions of herself. But, that would have to come later.

Turning to the panel on the wall, Eliza stopped before she pressed anything. She looked back towards the corner the Assassin had been in. “Fal-Mai. I’m going to leave the room. I ask you; please lower your cloak long enough for me to leave.”

Silence hung thickly in the air. Eliza half-thought she was going to have to employ the measure bound into Fal-Mai’s cuffs. But then, the air in that corner shimmered. The Assassin did not become visible again, but judging by the distortion, she was partially peeling back her shroud, just enough for  _ something _ to be seen. Eliza nodded, and let a smile come to her face. “Thank you.”

Eliza tapped a button on the protected panel, and the door slid open. The shimmering did not move. The Commander stepped out of the Assassin’s cell, the door closing behind her. Lily was still outside, now operating a datapad. “No luck?”

“Some luck.” Eliza stepped away from the door, back over to Shen. “Maybe not as much as I’d hope, but it’s something.”

“Well, if anybody could pull it off... it’s probably you, Commander.” Lily looked back down to her datapad. “God knows I wouldn’t have the patience or the know-how to convince  _ any _ of them to work for us.”

Eliza tilted her head. “You’d have the best chance with the Hunter, I’d think. He’s of the engineering sort.”

Lily scoffed. “Yeah, you could’ve fooled me, but he sure as hell is. One of his first orders of business was taking the plasma blueprints from me and furiously re-working them to re-balance the Elerium. I mean... I’ll give him credit, all our plasma tech is now a whole lot less likely to blow up in our faces and I can now do some things I was meaning to with them... but he doesn’t exactly strike me as the kind of guy to do that out of the good of his heart.” She stopped in whatever she was doing with the datapad. “Mordenna seemed almost...  _ relieved _ when it was done, like he’d been meaning to do it for a long time. I’ve seen the way the Plasma Rifles the aliens use are built. I don’t think the Elders let him have any input, considering how poorly they’re designed and what he just did to all our weapons.”

The Commander nodded all that, perhaps a little grimly. “Because if the Elders let him make changes, that would be an admission of fault in something they  _ created. _ I’ve known the Elders a while, Shen, and the last thing they want is somebody showing them up on creating something.”

Shen’s face twisted. “God, of course they’d hate that. Even if it would literally involve a drastic improvement to their design, even if it was from the mind of one of their best engineers, it would mean that they were wrong and  _ obviously _ we can’t have that.”

“Perish the thought!” Eliza placed a hand to her chest. “The Grand Elders, making something as human as a  _ mistake? _ I ought to throw you in the prisons for heresy, Shen. To insist such a thing is rather deviant!”

Lily laughed, shaking her head. “Commander!”

“Can I not indulge in theatrics, Lily?”

“No, no, you can, Commander,” Lily said between chuckles, face a bit red, “I don’t think I have any authority to tell you what you can and can’t do. I’ll leave all that to Bradford.”

“And let him have all the fun?”

Lily sighed dramatically. “I  _ suppose _ he can have it all, and all the gray hairs that come with it.”

Eliza chuckled, shaking her head as she clasped her hands in front of her. “I’m sure he treasures every single one. Now, is Mordenna getting on well otherwise?”

Nodding, Lily resumed working on the datapad. “Yeah, past all the ribbing he does? He’s actually pretty nice to have around. Like I said, I didn’t expect him to be as knowledgeable as he is. He’s already in the Workshop, starting progress on getting SYN’s core data de-compressed.”

Ah, yes. That reminded Eliza. “Hopefully one of our favorite robots can be salvaged?”

“With Mordenna’s help? It’s very likely. I’ll spare you the details, but the way SYN’s backup works? At worst, we’d have SYN with no memories and none of the extra programming I did. Still functional, but it’d be like he was first built. At best? We get a version of him right before the Assassin stabbed him.”

The Commander nodded. “I may not get more of the technical aspects, but I can hazard a guess as to how you set it up, and I have to commend you for ingenuity.”

Lily smiled, looking down at the datapad. “Thanks, Commander. I just wanted to make sure that if anything ever happened to him, we’d have a good chance at getting him back, you know?”

“Of course. I’m glad for your thinking.” Another thing came to Eliza, and she sighed. “Well, the day is still young, but it won’t be that way forever. I need to go place a few calls in the Resistance now that we have the Assassin. Is there any projects you want me to clear before I leave?”

Shen shook her head. “Rebuilding SYN is gonna be our top priority for a bit. So, unless you need something else urgently? You can go, Commander.”

Eliza grinned. “ _ Am _ I free to leave, Shen?”

“You... you know what I mean!”

Eliza chuckled, turning towards the door and walking. “It’s always a pleasure talking with you, Shen. Best of luck on your work. I’ll be in the Resistance Ring.”

“Good luck, Commander!” Lily called after her.

Eliza waved without turning back, clearing the door for the Chosen Holding Cells. With all that out of the way, it was time for her to make her way over to where she said she’d be. A call with Geist awaited her, after all, and she didn’t want to make him wait any longer than she had made him wait before. Even for their occasional disagreements and disputes, she owed him that much.

The time it took to walk there gave her time to think over what the Assassin had said, as well. Her insistence on not letting Eliza “brainwash” her gave a bit of insight into her thinking of what happened to the Hunter... or whatever she was trying to  _ convince _ herself happened. It seemed Fal-Mai was trying to convince herself of a  _ lot _ of things, come to think of it. Still, Eliza needed to approach all of it carefully. This wasn’t something she could brute-force by insisting, without sensitivity, that the Elders were bastards and everything she knew about them was wrong. Like many plans Eliza had made, it’d take time, and most importantly, care. If Fal-Mai could see that it’s not so much that the Elders don’t care—it’s more like the Commander  _ does? _ That was probably the better way to go.

Her heart sunk at the next topic her mind moved to, and one of her hands traced the wall as she walked. Denial was denial, and god knows how hard she had been indoctrinated in order for her to uphold her beliefs, even if shakily. Mordenna had been truthful—Fal-Mai was  _ made _ in the Elder’s care. Not uplifted like her brothers. But, if what she had implied on the battlefield was true, and that she had been  _ punished... _

Eliza’s face set in quiet anger. What... what kind of  _ parent _ would do that? To punish their other children because they, what, “didn’t do enough to save him?” It made her sick, and it also made a kind of protectiveness rise up in her—which only further strengthened at the thought that she had just taken the Assassin. If trends continued, that meant that the Warlock had been punished no less than  _ twice _ now. 

A fury burned inside of Eliza, and made her start walking faster. No place for this anger of hers but to channel it, she knew. She could put it somewhere useful... but maybe not let it bubble so closely to the surface, considering who she was about to talk to. She took in a deep, steadying breath, and opened the door to the Resistance Ring.

Things were quiet on the inside, outside of the low hum of the machinery. The screen at the far end of the room displayed a map of the world and where the current headquarters for the three factions were, updated to the most recent coordinates of the Lost city that the Reapers were in. Eliza relished in the quiet for the moment it took to hail Geist.

Well, she could still relish it for a while more. Geist always took a bit to pick up, undoubtedly being a very busy man. Running a whole temple of acolytes and Paladins probably didn’t leave him with too many hours left in the day to himself. In that aspect, Eliza could find a quiet companionship with him. She wasn’t lying to Mordenna, either—Geist was handsome. Such a shame that they had to clash pretty often. Eliza, at her heart, could understand why. To have shaky or uncertain allies in this war was most often death. Still, Geist was a strange man. Saying at the start that his help would be limited, and then sending one of his most skilled Templars to assist XCOM? Perhaps he, too, had a face to maintain...

Eliza heard the telltale crackle of the connection going through before Geist appeared on the screen, seated at his desk as always. His face was as hard to read as it usually was. “Commander. Good to see you again.”

The Commander nodded. “Geist. I’ll cut the small talk—I’ve just captured the Assassin within the day. The only thing that now bars me from going after the Warlock is the Elerium needed to construct his cell.”

Geist settled his hands on the table, maintaining eye contact. “Eliza, your victory over the Hunter I will grant, you have shown that much. I will also admit that it is too early to judge for certain, but you have not yet swayed the Assassin and yet you proclaim your plans to hunt the Warlock. If you cannot turn the Nightmaiden, what hope have you for the Mindbutcher?”

Ah, straight to the point. Eliza at least dryly appreciated that. “Time, Geist. You even admit that ‘it is too early to judge for certain.’ Things like this definitely take time. I’ve already talked with the Assassin today shortly after her capture, and there’s some promising progress to be made. But I’m going to need more time to space out my talks and convince her.”

Geist didn’t back down. “Fair. But my primary concern is of the Warlock. Lest you forget, you are against the temptations and promises of the Elders in trying to convince him to join your cause. Not only that, but there is also the matter of his misuse of his own psionics.” His face did change a bit—enough to set into a hard expression. “He is, in a word, deranged. Drunk of his own warped powers. He has been as such for  _ twenty years. _ There is the very real chance he is beyond even you, Commander. Would you be willing to admit such a defeat?”

“The way I see it,” Eliza retorted, “I have two outcomes; either I am able to convince Jax of the true nature of the Elders and have him fight for our side... or I have contained the Warlock and he is no longer a menace to anyone, perhaps more importantly your Templars.” She levelled a meaningful look at him at that last point. “So, if I have to admit defeat, I’ll gladly do so. In a way, I’ll still be the winner.”

Geist maintained his stance a bit longer before nodding shallowly, unwinding just a tad. “I will concede that. You have proven your ability at taking down Chosen, this is true, so your ‘two outcomes’ hold water. Indeed, your disposal of him would also be a boon to me and mine. I would, however, advise temperance in overzealousness. The Elders will take any advantage you hand them.”

Eliza raised her eyebrows, and she couldn’t help a small joke. “The leader of the Templars, speaking against overzealousness. I’m not saying your advice is a joke, not at all, but you’ll have to forgive some levity on my part.”

Was Eliza hallucinating? Did Geist’s mouth budge into a smile? “Times such as these lend to odd circumstances, I understand.” If it did, it was right back to the stern line it usually was. “Regardless. Your explanations sway me, Commander—I cannot have uncertain allies in this war. I would be willing to aid you in further seeking out the Warlock’s location—and perchance, I may do more than leading your operatives to where he nests.”

Eliza tilted her head a bit in interest. “Color me curious, Geist. What could you do?”

Geist straightened, slightly moving his gauntlets. “I wish for your mission against the Warlock to succeed, regardless of what you do with him after he is in your custody. It is also to my understanding that I am the lone faction who has not sent you a second operative. I’ve heard of the injuries sustained by ‘Wukong’ and ‘Prince.’ If Kalight were to be injured himself, you would have no recourse against the Warlock, and it is time I rectified that.”

He clasped his hands on the table, in a focused position. “If allowed, I would like to send my Seer, Marlene Kara. I think you would find her an excellent addition in seeking and defeating the Warlock.”

A “Seer?” Sounded less like a combat type than Kalight “Vanguard” van Steele, but Eliza wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. She nodded. “I would very much appreciate the additional help—never can have too many hands around here.”

“Very well. Now, of finding the Warlock.”

Eliza held up a hand. “You might not need to bother—and I mean that in a good way, let me explain myself. I’ve got it on good info that the Hunter, and most likely the Assassin too, know the location of his Stronghold. Mordenna dropped the hint during the assault on Fal-Mai’s Stronghold, and considering how he behaves? I’m fairly certain he knows where his brother lives.”

“Can you  _ trust _ such info, Eliza? I also have the knowledge of his behavior, and he could very well be deceiving you for little more than a jape.”

Eliza nods again. “I’m willing to trust it—but I’ll still be cautious. Scouting the location, for one, before showing up in the party bus. Once Fal-Mai is more keen to work with us, I can ask her as well. But, as always, progress towards him is dependant on getting more Elerium. Which, don’t worry about that being a thinly veiled request for some—I’ve got a solution to it coming up.”

“If you are certain,” Geist replied. “I will enter discussion with my own in regards to sending the Seer with you, but she should be ready to convene with your soldiers by the time you can touch down at our temple.”

“Sounds good to me. I’ll be able to manage that...” Eliza took a moment to go over a schedule of events in her head. “...  _ next _ week, at the earliest.”

“At that time? Certainly so.” Geist cleared his throat. “Have you anything else to declare, Eliza?”

The Commander shook her head. “I’m ready to call this a done deal if you are, Geist.”

His hands unclasped, one of them moving to something just out of sight. “As am I. Good luck, Commander.” With that, the connection closed, leaving Eliza in silence.

Silence was fine. Kind of. It depended on her mood at the time, but after a bit of talking? Eliza was fine with it. At any other time...

She shook her head, letting herself pace as she sorted her thoughts. That “solution” she mentioned to Geist was a tip on a supply raid she’d gotten during the planning out of the Stronghold mission. A fairly standard one—a disabled ADVENT train out in the middle of nowhere, plenty of materials on it, and only a security detail between her and the Elerium she would need to fashion Jax’s cell. Perhaps it would be a good second mission for the Hunter... as much as Eliza didn’t want to feed the fire of his bloodlust, the alternative was worse.

But, sending the Hunter out on that mission? Eliza was a bit uncertain, and she wasn’t much one for uncertainty she could deal with. She’d already gotten interrupted when she was trying to talk to him the first time in her Quarters. It was high time for another attempt, preferably  _ before _ she sent him on a mission where he could kill as much as he wanted. Plus, her heart wouldn’t allow her to let too much time pass between talks. It smacked of leaving him hanging. 

_ Soon, _ she resolved.  _ Very soon. Tomorrow, maybe. _ Her word was law around here, after all. While she’d hate to interrupt his new line of work down in the Workshop, this was pretty important, going forward. It was less “factual concern” regarding his “viability in missions” as a  _ detested _ but needed part of her brain posited. Mordenna needed someone to talk to, in her eyes. Someone that wasn’t himself. It was more “worry” and... perhaps the need of someone like him. Someone who had that connection. Someone who had  _ also _ been under the Elders.

Eliza blinked. There was something else too... but dare she even  _ consider _ it? With the way his mind was most likely set up, it wasn’t worth even thinking over. She sighed. “‘Letting your  _ worldly _ attractions influence your choices of allies, Eliza?’” She echoed to herself. She shook her head. Best to focus on just helping out Mordenna and letting him see that things didn’t have to stay as they were before.

She stood up straight, stopping in her pace. Then, she set her shoulders back, let her gaze cool, and took in a soft breath. Eliza was the Commander of XCOM. She could handle this, and not be a cold, emotionless  _ machine _ as she did. Clutching that notion close, she strode out of the Resistance Ring. There was much to be done.


	15. Therapy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mordenna and Eliza meet for a talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back from vacation, finally! Keep an eye out for an eventual, dedicated blog for SFTD!

Walking was such a bore, compared to scrabbling in the vents.

The Hunter mused on that as he leisurely strode towards the direction of the Lab, eyes glancing at the ceiling. Already he’d mapped out the whole network of passages through the ship. They were supposed to be maintenance ducts for reaching critical areas of the ship, sizeable enough that even he could maneuver around them. Mordenna had taken to using them as quick transportation... and also a way to spook the hell out of whoever was below. He’d already heard a few cries of “Chryssalids!” during his many journeys and the thought of it made him smirk.

So why not drop on Tygan like that? Well, firstly, Tygan struck the Hunter as the type to lay out a tailor-made  _ trap _ for the “Chryssalid” in the vents to land in once it exited them into the Lab. Knowing the physiology of the bastards, the Hunter didn’t doubt that such a thing would  _ probably _ take a limb off, and he knew for a fact that loss of an extremity was something his regeneration didn’t cover. He’d need the Elders to patch him up in the Void in that case, and considering his status now? He’d faster kill himself.

Secondly? The ceiling of the makeshift Laboratory was really, really high up. Higher than what even Mordenna wanted to game. He’d just have to drop in on Tygan metaphorically rather than literally, which took a bit of the fun out of it for him. But, he’d been meaning to talk to the scientist for a while. The man was high up on his interest list—below Shen and O’Leary, but above a lot of others. After all, he knew Tygan was second fiddle to Lily in reverse-engineering everything the Elders put out, and if he recalled correctly? The man had been chipped before. Either he’d managed to get it out himself... or him and Mordenna were about to have a very  _ interesting _ conversation. Either way further stoked his interests.

Such reasons, questions, and ideas were running around his brain as the door to the Lab slid open, and Mordenna ducked under the door. Tygan was setting up... a centrifuge, it looked like, gently placing vials inside of it. His back was to the Hunter, and it was then that he could spot the series of scars on the back of his neck, where his spine met his skull. Ah, so he  _ did _ remove it himself. Or, at the very least, made a convincing effort to look like he did.

Tygan must’ve heard the door slide open, because he carefully placed down the last vial on the counter and turned towards the door. He didn’t seem too surprised to see the Hunter at his door—but Mordenna could pick out a muscle in his neck tensing ever so slightly. “Hunter. Is there anything I can assist you with at the moment?”

“Oh, at the moment? Maybe.” Mordenna’s eyes shifted to the vial on the counter. It was yellowish, with flecks of orange in it.  _ Ah. Meld-infused blood and he’s trying to extract the plasma from it.  _ “Whatcha separating alien blood for, there?”

At that, Tygan looked mildly impressed, but the expression passed quickly. “It’s Samhien’s latest blood samples. He said there was a special sedative agent they used on him to move him from the Assassin’s Stronghold to the compound you recovered him from, and at his request, I’m doing tests to determine if some of it still remains in his bloodstream.”

“Oh, that stuff?” Mordenna gave a short chuckle. “It’s an alien compound. It’s extracted from a race of aliens the Elders never adapted for planet-conquering. If you’re looking for it, I’d recommend looking in his lymph fluids. It pools in the glands after going through the blood—only in humans and anything that shares enough genetic similarities, mind.”

Tygan raised his eyebrows, looking back to the centrifuge. “I... see. I will have to contact him later about another extraction...” Tygan was silent a moment, then he looked back to Mordenna. “Might I ask how your knowledge is so extensive?”

Mordenna shrugged. “I use a modified dose of it for my darts. Also I got curious what the exact effect of it was when I extracted the first test subject of it.”

Tygan’s expression didn’t change. “You dissected them.”

“Sure did!” Mordenna replied chipperly. “And hey, to the aliens? What you guys are doing ain’t any different.”

Tygan replied smoothly. “If ADVENT had not taken tens of thousands of my own kind in to be experimented on and refined into vials, perhaps I would be more hesitant. As it stands? It is a necessary evil in order to gain every edge we can against them.”

Mordenna nodded. “Good answer, doc. All for revenge, and all that. Pretty easy justification.” He grinned. “Maybe a bit too easy, eh?”

“If you are here to discuss the ethics of my work,” Tygan said, levelling a calm gaze at Mordenna, “I cannot help but think you are the last person to be questioning me, short of the Elders themselves. As you have previously mentioned, you yourself are not above experimentation on humans. With the specific of noticing the serum ‘only spreading in humans,’ I can only assume your own experimentation has delved into the aliens.”

Well! If he was here to shake Tygan to his core, it looked like the Hunter was beat. He shrugged. “Anyone can ask questions of anyone. But hey, I’ll take that as a sign to back off... for now.” His eyes slid over Tygan’s setup... and settled on a container on the far end of the counter. It was suspending a control chip inside of it... a  _ very specific one. _ He kept staring at it as he resumed speaking. “Now, doc... that’s a very unique chip you’ve got over there.” Out of the corner of his eye, he could spot Tygan tensing. “Only one kind of it in the world. Supposed to be in one specific person at all times, conditions being optimal. How’d you get  _ that? _ ”

He watched as Tygan seemed to deliberate over even telling the Hunter about it, before he sighed, adjusting his glasses. “You... most likely know where it came from, with the way you worded yourself. Regardless, yes. That is the chip extracted from the Commander when we recovered her from the Stasis Suit.”

The Hunter kept fixating on that chip. His mouth ran without him thinking about it. “Those chips are planted at the base of the brain stem,” he muttered, “and I saw those scars on the back of your neck.” Eliza’s hair was long enough that it could hide such a thing. “I imagine you did the same to her to get it out?”

Tygan was tellingly quiet. The Hunter finally tore his eyes away from the chip to look at him, and the good doctor wasn’t moving. His next statement came quietly. “No. I did not extract the chip from the Commander the same way I did mine. I instead used an extractor device.”

Mordenna eyed him, drawing up to full height. Subconsciously, his eyes flitted about before he spoke—his mind was racing as it made connections and drew conclusions. “... you re-tooled a chip implanter—the same kind used on her twenty years ago—and just... Shoved that in her mouth?”

Tygan nodded, looking decidedly grim. “Had I known at the time that her PTSD extended to situations such as that, I would have worked for an alternative method.”

_ PTSD. _ It didn’t really strike the Hunter as surprising that Eliza had it, but it felt a bit odd to consider nonetheless. The Commander of XCOM, suffering from something the Hunter really only considered soldiers themselves to harbor. Truthfully, he knew all kinds could have it, but that still didn’t chase off the peculiarity of it in his head. A few  _ emotions _ were also squirming in his gut, but he was having a hard time identifying what they were.

Nevertheless, he wouldn’t let the silence extend for long after that. “Well. The Elders are bastards,” he stated definitively. “I’d almost ask ‘how were you supposed to know’ but I feel like that won’t change a thing anywhere.”

Tygan nodded again. “I concur. The Elders... leave much to be desired.”

Wanting to still discuss the chip, the Hunter mentally skipped past the implications of it. “Alright, enough of that. Truth be told, I never had the chance to really check out the specifics of the chip itself. Mind indulging me?”

The scientist’s expression returned to a calmer neutrality. “The chip, for all extents and purposes, is a modified design on the one we’ve found in Officers. Perhaps the more accurate way to state it would be to call the Officer chip a derivative of this one.”

“Built to withstand hundreds of gigs in data streaming at all times, yeah?”

“Indeed, and with capacitor limits of up to several  _ petabytes. _ Truthfully, at that stage, I would expect a complete Network overload, and I shudder to think what would cause such a surge.”

Mordenna shrugged. “It’s never come  _ that _ close, but there’s been surges before. Usually upon mass Codex connections or several thousand queries building up in reference to an event. Plus, that’s just what the Commander herself was contributing to the Network with her processing power. Lest we forget, I was on there at one point too, and all the Codices and Specters contribute their own bandwidth.”

Tygan seemed to study the Hunter for a moment. “Does a chip of your own still exist?”

Mordenna shook his head. “Nah. Odin—the bastard responsible for me—was confident I could maintain a link to the Network via my connection to my Sarcophagus and the processing power he’d shoved my skull full of. Come to think of it, I don’t think either of my other wayward siblings have them, either.” It was probably a matter of pride for the other Elders, too. To have to shove a chip in their heads was an admittance that they couldn’t really control their own children on by themselves.  _ Their loss, _ he mentally bit.

“All without a chip-monitored connection?”

“Yep! Turns out that six months of cramming they did to me along with all the horrible genetic experiments was useful for  _ something. _ ” That being a lot of things. “Can’t sleep now, but eh. Got better things to do, anyway.”

Before either of them could continue the conversation further, a datapad on the counter rang out. Tygan put a finger up to the Hunter and walked over, tapping a button on it. “Commander?”

“ _ Dr. Tygan. Would you know where the Hunter is? _ ”

“No,” Mordenna answered for him, “have you tried asking the Elders? I think they wanna know, too.”

There was a short laugh from the datapad. “ _ Implying I  _ want _ to speak to them, Hunter? In any case, please report up to my quarters as soon as you can. I want to speak with you. _ ”

Oh, boy. The Hunter’s mind was already at work trying to think of what Eliza wanted now—but all answers pointed towards that “talk” she’d been trying to secure. Still, he kept chipper despite the unspecific dread that was rising. “Oh, sure, Liz. I’ll be there when I finish up with the good doctor here.”

“ _ Alright. Wrap it up, and I’ll see you soon. _ ” 

With that, the screen of the pad went dark. Tygan turned to the Hunter. “We’ll have to continue this discussion at a later point. Despite... some avenues of the conversation, I think you and I have much to share.”

“Of course!” The Hunter clapped his hands together. “Maybe I can wrangle you into some mad science. Lily’s a hell of a lot of fun but when it comes to compounds and anything of a more biological nature? Seems like I’ve got a lot of talking to do with you.”

Tygan’s mouth moved into a dry smile. “I look forward to our talks, in many ways. Now, the Commander wishes to see you.”

“Right, right.” The Hunter spun on his heel, heading towards the door. “Don’t do anything fun without me!”

“I’ll certainly try my best, Hunter.”

  
  


The trip up to the Commander’s Quarters was uneventful, though Mordenna’s brain had been going over every negative possibility.

He knew, rationally, this probably wasn’t over anything major he’d done wrong. No, this was just going to be about the  _ Elders _ and what happened to him and if that wasn’t a can of worms to open, the Hunter didn’t know what was. He’d thought over it, occasionally, only ever in a self-pitying way, right up until he ended one of his countless lives himself. Then came the embarrassment and self-loathing, then the status quo... up until he had one of his pitiful “episodes” again.

He couldn’t have any more of those, he knew. Well, he supposed he  _ could, _ and he probably would, given  _ him, _ but there would be no more capping himself in the head or taking a dive off a sniper’s nest or what have you to punctuate it. Just... having to deal with it, as unthinkable as it was.  _ Yikes, _ he mentally noted.

Mordenna’s head was still running circles like that when he finally made it to Eliza’s door. It slid open uneventfully but with a certain dread to it, and revealed the room beyond. Eliza was in the same place she was last time, and nodded to Mordenna. He walked in and found his place on the couch opposite of her again, his nature leading him into being the first to start the conversation. “Alright, I’ve gotta be in the doghouse this time, Liz. What’s my charges? How long am I serving?”

The Commander did not laugh, but she smiled and shook her head. Her smile was less “happy” and more something else, but the Hunter was trying to figure out what. “No, no trouble.” Her smile fell and she regarded him seriously. “But I will be clear about my intentions. I’ve called you in here to talk. Not idle chit-chat, either—I want today to be the start of you and I talking over what happened to you. I’ve made the time in my schedule, and as long as you have the time in yours? I would like to get into things.”

It was so tempting to say that he had other things planned just to worm out of this and kick it down the road again. God knows he’d stalled enough before to manage to get interrupted... but something told him Eliza would look into whatever he had “planned.” She had to keep track of her soldiers, after all. But wasn’t Eliza just trying to  _ help, _ god forbid? Wasn’t she interested in what was bothering him? The thought was still hard to grasp.

Not hard enough to grasp that it prevented him from accepting, though. Plus, he knew what he thought earlier. If he got this talk with Eliza out of the way? He could go bug his sister in her cell with the newfound trust. “I’ve got nothing but time nowadays, Liz. Let’s see you play therapist.” How bad could it really be, anyway?

The Commander nodded, sitting up and clasping her hands in front of her. “Firstly, there’s something I want to clear with you, Mordenna. Do you remember, almost a week back, when I tried to touch your shoulder?”

That was one way of putting it, he supposed. The Hunter nodded and Eliza continued. “I’ve got the habit of trying to reassure people through touch and physical affection. It’s a bit of a recent one, but nevertheless? I wanted to ask you if it’s ok that I did that with you.”

Hmm. Establishing boundaries before anything else. Eliza was a card. Though, something stuck out at him in that sentence, and he leaned back in his seat, crossing one of his legs over the other. “‘A recent one?’ I mean... depending on how physical we’re getting, I suppose I could get used to it, but I’m more interested in that qualifier. If you’re going to ‘care for me,’ you might as well let me learn about you.”

Eliza’s eyes flitted to the left for a second as she considered something—god knows it was if she really wanted to reveal more things about herself to the Hunter. Her caring nature must’ve won out, as she looked back to him and nodded. “I’d be willing to answer questions, yes. As for that? Twenty years in a tank does horrors to you, Mordenna. I was never a touch-starved person before, but you can imagine that twenty years with little to no physical contact would create such a trait in me, if not make an existing one worse.”

Geez, was this a pity party for him or Eliza?  _ It could always be for the both of you, _ his mind reminded him, and he crossed his arms. “Suppose you’ve got five years over me in that aspect. Still, how much of physical contact are we talking, here?”

“As far as you’d want,” she replied, “but as a baseline? Up to and including hugging. You’d be surprised what a good hug can do for you.”

“As far as he’d want,” hmm? He cursed himself for even lingering on that and instead opted to continue with the conversation. “Alright. Think I can do that, though excuse me if I’m a bit weirded out at first.” He didn’t crave touch, he thought. Wasn’t repulsed by it, either. But getting touched—getting  _ hugged _ by Eliza? Perhaps he shouldn’t have agreed to it.

Nevertheless, Eliza moved on. “Right. Now, there’s something I want to ask about first. Mordenna, why would you say you’re ‘nothing good?’”

Oh, boy. That was a whole can of worms Eliza wanted to open there and from the looks of it, she may not have even known it. Well, Eliza at least looked serious, but... that whole “self-worth” thing was something Mordenna had been dealing with during his entire run with the Elders... and was  _ still  _ dealing with it, come to think of it. He sighed, straightening. “Eliza, you and I know I look at things based on thousands of variables. When I calculate, my mind’s on ten different things a second. So when I say I’m ‘nothing good,’ you can know I damn well mean it.”

“And?”

“What ‘and’ is there?”

“I know you  _ mean _ it, and you say that there’s ‘thousands of variables.’ But what are those? What’s just a few of them?”

He lidded his eyes at her. To be difficult, or not to be difficult... “One of them is my unwillingness to work with my siblings, which is pretty counterproductive to you wanting to help all of us. Fuck, Eliza, I want to  _ kill _ my siblings for various reasons. But they’re alright with each other, Jax and Fal-Mai are. Cutting me out of the equation would only be a benefit. Why have one that murders two when you could have two?”

Eliza kept her gaze firmly on him. “Because I haven’t worked with you yet. I haven’t  _ tried _ with you yet. So I’m not going to throw in the towel before I’ve even started. I will deal with absolutes, but only when I have  _ proven _ such things are absolutes. You’ve shown you can work in a small squad, and it’s been a week or so with you on the Avenger. Lily’s taking an interest to you. There is promise; hence, why I brought you up here to talk.”

Mordenna’s lidded eyes moved into a squint. “You stick your neck out pretty far with that kind of attitude, Eliza, and one day someone’s gonna carve your head clean from your shoulders.”

“Is that person going to be you?”

The Hunter was quiet at that. The truth was, he didn’t want to be that person. He’d already decided he’d much rather have Eliza alive than dead. He got the strong feeling that it wasn’t a rhetorical question, so he answered. “No.”

“Then I will continue to stick my neck out for you. I don’t think you’re worthless. You have to remember, Mordenna, I was also hooked up to that damn Network for my brains. I’m taking everything into account, here, too. So when I say I want to keep you, I have my reasons as well.”

“Name a few,” he replied.

Eliza rattled off the list in short order. “From a completely tactical standpoint? You’re the Hunter, a master tracker who is good at taking down priority targets and stalking VIPs for days on end. Stealth is your element and I can always use more stealth operatives with the skill of the Reapers. Not to mention your engineering skills—I heard from Lily herself what you’ve done to our Plasma weapons, and let me say that it’s greatly appreciated, your work is.

“From any other standpoint? My biggest reason is that I simply want to help you, Mordenna. There is enough injustice in this world. I can’t stop and hear the life story of every ADVENT soldier, no. I’ll let the Skirmishers handle that. But when given the choice to kill a major figure without a second thought or to capture them and hear what they have to say? I’ll gladly choose the second. Yes, it’s more work out of me, and yes, it’s more risky. But I would prefer having to work harder to never having tried.”

His eyes scanned over her for a minute. “You want to  _ try. _ ”

“Was that not what I said? Yes. Before I declare anything a ‘lost cause,’ I like to try, first. You’d be surprised how much works when you have that line of thinking.”

She wanted to try with him. Even if he was difficult? Mordenna was used to the one being that “tried” with him having given up at the first few early signs of resistance, and it had been all downhill from there. He had the scars to show it. Maybe there was hope—he could certainly feel his want to be needlessly difficult going down. That was something. He sighed again, closing his eyes. “So you’re serious. You want to take me, the Chosen Hunter, in. You wanna care. You wanna make me part of this little family you’re running.”

“Absolutely.”

He let that answer hang a bit. “And if I’m difficult with my siblings?”

“Well, we’ll build that bridge when we get to it.”

Her sheer optimism got a single laugh out of him, and he relaxed his arms on the back of the couch. “Alright, Liz. You’ve got me. I’m well and truly convinced.” That... may or may not be actually true. He had yet to see if it would be true.

Eliza smiled, a genuine, warm smile, and Mordenna felt glad he’d said that. She regarded him well as she spoke. “And I’m happy to hear it. Happy to know this talk has gone so well, too.”

He grinned slyly. “So, Commander, am I out of the doghouse now?”

“If you want to be. I think we’ve accomplished a lot with this talk and I’d be fine with letting you go... for now.”

Oh boy. “For now.” She  _ did _ have other talks with him planned. Thankfully he’d managed to divert a lot of the talk about himself and learn a bit about Eliza—hard to say if she realized that, but knowing her? The Commander was likely fine with the result either way. Now, it looks like he was free to go. He stood up, stretching. “Alright then, good ol’ Commander. Riot of a talk we had. Most of ‘em are!”

She nodded, leaning over and grabbing a datapad. Seems like it was back to business as usual for the busy Commander. “Glad to hear it. Where you off to next?”

Oh, right. He was intending to head off to the Workshop to lose himself in a project or two but he’d almost forgotten to ask. “Oh, mischief as usual up in the Workshop. Say, mind if I ask you something?”

Eliza nodded, putting the datapad on her lap. Mordenna continued. “Your talk of helping me with my siblings got me thinking. More than usual, anyway. I ain’t gonna do it soon, but do you think it’d be too much trouble if I went and bothered my sister in her little cell? Not like nobody but you wants to talk to her, so I figure she’ll... think  _ something _ about the company!”

Eliza’s brows furrowed in thought and she considered the Hunter for a bit. “Are you actually intending on having an honest talk with her or are you intending on antagonizing her when she can’t fight back?”

“What, me? The poor old Hunter? No, not at all!”

Eliza gave him a particular look that said that he wasn’t helping his case. He shrugged. “I just wanna talk, see how she’s holding up. You’re the one who put the idea to rebuild bridges with my siblings in my head.”

To be truthful? He’d decide what he was doing as he felt like it. He was just gonna enter that room and see what he’d get up to. If he actually ended up doing something constructive with his sister? Hey, what happened, would happen. 

Still, Eliza seemed to give him the benefit of the doubt. “Tell me when you want to go see her and I’ll see you beforehand. No guns, of course.”

“Of course, of course! Would hate to shoot my sister, after all. I’ll let you know, Lizzie.” 

After a bit more thinking, she nodded. “Sounds good. You can head out to the—ah, wait.” She spotted something on her datapad and gave the Hunter a knowing smile. “Actually, one more thing. You interested in a more...  _ loud _ mission, Mordenna?”

He fixed her with an intrigued look before he grinned right back. “Ohoho, wanting me to tear it up out there, Liz?”

“In essence, yes. Got a supply raid on a train some Resistance contacts are about to stop. Need to clear out the area first before we take anything off of it. What do you say?”

Mordenna could feel his smile turn a bit darker. “You hardly need to ask, Liz. I’d be happy to  _ thin the ranks _ .”

She nodded, tapping away on the pad. “I’ll have you in the mission and let you know if anything special comes up.  _ Now  _ you can head out.”

He gives Eliza a two-fingered salute and turns on his heel, sauntering out. As he walked through the door and heard it close behind him, he got thinking. 

Eliza cared. Least, she said she did.  _ Odin said he cared, those first few months. _ Yeah. It was easy to believe when it happened, but as soon as the curtain was drawn and Mordenna was left to think to himself? Things got a lot more muddled. 

He kept walking, feet on autopilot as he headed down to the Workshop. Eliza herself seemed to have a big thing about trying before giving up, supposedly. “Odin tried, I’m sure,” he muttered to himself. “Fat lot of good that did him.” Then again, even in those early months, the way he looked at Odin was different. Mordenna had only respected him at first out of fear and the feeling that there was nothing else he could be do without potentially getting killed off permanently. With Eliza, those worst he could see her doing is locking him right back up in his cell and dealing with him after the war was over. There wasn’t a Sword of Damocles over his head...

But depending on his behavior, there sure as hell was one over hers. 

“Like I’ve said,” Mordenna remarked as he reached up and undid a vent latch, crawling into it and closing it behind him, “I’d want her alive rather than dead.  _ Maybe  _ to the point of stopping her from dying if I can help it. Nothing more than that, of course.” But was he being truthful with himself? All he had to do was think of her smiling at him again to make him question that. 

He scowled. “Elders never smiled at me. Maybe if they made some sort of proxy that could I wouldn’t be pathetically clinging to the first thing that showed any inclination of actually giving a damn. But they didn’t, so here I am, feeling like a fucking fool because she cares. God.”

Mordenna took a turn in the vents. “She wants to try. She sees my merits. Fuck, it would have been a lot easier to kill a sorry fuck like me when she had the chance. But instead she decided to take one of her operatives out for—fuck, over a week now, and take me in. She  _ cares _ .”

His crawling slowed down. “... Not like it’s gonna be worth it in the end. I’ll hurt her, I’ll hurt someone she cares about, I’ll hurt  _ somebody _ and then I’ll no longer be worth it. Just a ticking time bomb and she wants to ignore it.” But was she? Was she ignoring it when she brought Mordenna into her Quarters specifically  _ to _ talk about that?

“Better yet... maybe it’ll be just me I hurt. And I never hurt myself just a tad. Maybe it’ll be one bullet short from a gun, maybe it’ll be a long walk off of the short deck of the Avenger, maybe...”

He caught his line of thinking and it made him stop in his tracks, both physically and mentally. He scoffed, disgusted with himself. “Fucking  _ yikes _ , Mordenna, you ever wonder why nobody wants to hang out with you? Pathetic.”

With that, he resumed his trip to the Workshop. At least there he could just lose himself to his projects.


	16. Context

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> XCOM raids a train and reap more than what they have sowed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm happy to announce we now have a story blog for SFTD! You can find it at sftd-official.tumblr.com. Questions to the characters and about the story are encouraged and welcome!

The Hunter was sure he could stay out of sight on this mission until he was needed to open fire and start racking up the body count. His new allies? Not so much. 

About the only one he could even somewhat trust on this mission was Kalight, and that was because he was the only bloke the Hunter had ran with before. That pearly white armor still wasn’t doing him any favors though, and didn’t he know fur was so last year?

Plus, he had to wonder what Eliza was thinking, sending  _ another _ robot this mission. Julian, was it? Lily had brought him up a few times. Apparently they had installed him into a backup SPARK they had in case SYN ever got taken out. Instead of the sleek head SYN had, though, Julian’s was more like a skull, with red LED-like lights for optical sensors. Yeah, he had a distortion field up at the moment that the Hunter could see right through, but how ADVENT didn’t hear him clunking in from a mile away was beyond him. 

Then there was the first face of two jokers. Dark, with a bandanna covering his mouth and sunglasses covering his eyes, toting one of their redesigned Plasma Rifles. Mordenna thought his name was something to the tune of Ben. Oh yeah, there was the Psi Amp on his back, too, and his short afro looked like he’d been dying it to keep it black. 

The other face was Pattie. Her, he remembered. Along with her voice. How could he forget when she was yammering on even as he looked at her? Without glasses, he could see she had those signature purple eyes. Long, dyed brown hair tied into a short ponytail at the bottom, with a matching bandanna with Ben around her head like a hairband. Just a few shades lighter than Ben, too. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say the two were related, but too much was different about them physically to make the connection. It would at least give a good reason as to her having a Psi Amp on her back too. 

Finally, at the back of the squad and with a GREMLIN hovering behind her, was their resident Specialist, Mary. Here more for the healing than the hacking—if anything like that came up, Mordenna had it handled. Messy, black hair, hazel eyes, pale skin, and thick, rectangular glasses were about all that stood out to the Hunter. 

Quite frankly, none of the lot of them really earned his attention, but he figured he should at least acknowledge them if he was going to be working with them from now on. He only really was interested in a few people on the Avenger, and most of Eliza’s boy scouts didn’t fall into that narrow category. 

All he cared about at the moment was maintaining his high ground on the lead up to the mission area. The area around the disabled train was mostly dusty, dry hills, and Mordenna could spot one or two of them in the distance near their destination that he’d be inclined to use. Rocks were scattered through the area, some big enough for people to hide behind—but it seemed like ADVENT were just clustered around the train. Fair enough by him. Just needed his perch and then he was all set for this mission. 

But of course, that would involve the two troublemakers  _ shutting up _ . That didn’t seem likely to happen anytime this century. 

“—and look, Pats, even if you turned a Berserker around I’m pretty sure  _ you  _ aren’t strong enough to hit that ‘paralysis point.’”

Pattie jabbed a finger at him, the other hand supporting her gun. “That’s because I never have tried! Imagine being able to take down one of those  _ things _ by just smacking it hard enough.”

Well, technically Pattie had a point, but that spot wasn’t just exclusive to Berserkers. Hit hard enough on anything whose nervous system ran down the spine and you could paralyze it pretty quickly. But considering Berserkers had plates along their spine for just such an occasion? Unlikely. He wasn’t about to disillusion her, though. That would give off the implication he was invested in their conversation, and he wasn’t about to have that.

Thankfully, Julian had it handled for him. “There’s no  _ magic paralysis spot _ on Berserkers,” he snidely replied, “but most flesh-based lifeforms like yourself have a central nervous system along the spine. Apply enough force to damage the endings and, yes, you can paralyze a Berserker.”

Pattie socked Benald in the arm. “See, I was  _ right. _ Kinda. You owe me a week’s chores.”

“Pats, your argument was based on it being  _ exclusive _ to Berserkers. I don’t owe you shit.”

“Do too!”

“Do not.”

“Augh,” Julian cut in, “we are trying, horror of horrors, to be  _ stealthy _ here! The both of you need to stop flapping your jaws like the hunks of meat attached to your skulls they rightfully are.”

As much as Julian’s overt snarkiness grated on Mordenna, at least  _ someone _ remembered they were trying to sneak this for as long as possible. Rolling his eyes, Mordenna hopped over another rock and stuck to cover, peering his head out.

Ah. Finally,  _ company. _ Mordenna held a finger to his ear. “Hey, chucklefucks. Got eyes on ADVENT. Two Vipers, a Stun Lancer, a Trooper, and—ooh, is that an  _ Andromedon? _ ”

The pod he was describing was over the crest of the next hill, on a low alert near the disabled train. They really were out in the middle of nowhere with this one—the Resistance operatives said it was their only chance without offing themselves in the process. Fair by Mordenna—he could do with what little cover was offered. The evening was still young.

Amazingly, the twins immediately shut up as soon as Mordenna had alerted them to the squad ahead. Everyone bunkered down and stuck to what cover was offered, though Julian remained still and standing. Had to, if he wanted that field around him to work. Mordenna watched out of the corner of his eye as Pattie wiggled up, right next to Benald. They exchanged a look, then nodded.

Benald spoke over comms. “Commander? You heard Mords.” Huh. Nice nickname. “Pats and I want to try out our deal on the Andromedon. Might be best if someone else opens the fight, though. We’re gonna need a second or two to pull it off.”

“ _ Understood. _ ” Eliza’s voice came in, and goodness, Mordenna found himself another project. The communication systems left something to be wanted. Looks like he had some work in sharpening them up. “ _ Mordenna? _ ”

“Considering the cover around their position? Best I dome one of those Vipers. I want whoever’s aim sucks the least to gun for the other. Pats, Ben, do whatever the hell you’re doing, Julian, I want you to take out the Andromedon shell if/when they kill it. Kalight? Cleanup duty.”

“Commander,” Julian came in, already sounding like he had a problem with those completely reasonable orders, “am I supposed to take orders from a  _ Chosen? _ ”

Oh, how predictable. The snarky robot had a problem with him. God, if anything was so stereotypical, it’d be that. He opened his mouth to respond.

“ _Yes, Julian._ ” Ah. Seems he didn’t need to. The Commander sure was neat! “ _Mordenna’s tactical mind is equal to my own, and he’s also the one responsible for helping SYN get rebuilt. If you don’t want to risk death on the field anymore than you have to, listen to him._ ”

Julian was quiet for a moment at that, but eventually he gave a robotic sigh. “ _ Fine. _ I suppose if it gets me out of combat quicker so  _ that _ tin can will get shot at instead of me, I’ll comply.  _ For now. _ ”

“ _ Grand. Any other objections? _ ”

Didn’t seem to be any. While Julian had been saying his bit, Mordenna had advanced to the perch he had spotted ahead earlier, taking out his Darklance and nestling it between the rocks. “The peanut gallery’s silent, Lizzie. For once, god help them. Can I  _ please _ shoot some people?”

“ _ Squad, move to your positions. Mordenna, once they’re good, you’re cleared to fire. _ ”

Trigger finger itching, Mordenna monitored the squad out of the corner of his eye as he lined up his sights on the first Viper. She wasn’t even aware of him... though the movement from the squad caused her to look over. If she saw any of them moving, she didn’t act on it—though she kept her sight to the squad. Mordenna’s mouth moved into a concentrated line. “Goons, stop moving. One of the Vipers has almost cottoned on to you lot.”

At his command, the squad wisely stopped. He supposed they figured that, even if he was Chosen, Eliza trusted him enough to be the de-facto squad leader. Well, he wasn’t out here to get them killed, anyway. If they died, oh well, but might as well not let Eliza think he was incompetent. Besides... he could get used to field commanding.  _ Technically _ that’s what he was supposed to be doing during his time at ADVENT, but Mordenna? Behaving with Odin’s will?  _ There was a time that you did, you know. You listened to his every beck and call... as as much as you tell yourself otherwise, it wasn’t out of fear. _

Mordenna pulled the trigger and watched as the Viper’s head simply ceased to be amidst a cloud of orange blood. The small rush he got staved off his thoughts just a bit. Just a bit. “Get moving, boy scouts.”

On cue, Julian lowered the distortion field and opened fire—pretty indiscriminately, it seemed, but Mordenna could see he was doing a sweep of the squad, gathering their ire. For someone who had been complaining earlier about being shot at, he was sure trying to make himself the center of attention. A few of his shots did land, Mordenna would give him that much.

That distraction was just what Pattie and Benald needed. While Mordenna hadn’t been watching, they both had stood up and taken the Psi Amps off of their backs, standing together and pooling their powers between themselves. Now Mordenna was watching as, in united synchronization, they flung their powers towards the Andromedon. Pattie’s psionics lanced out like fire, curling around Benald’s more solid, physical psionics, like ice.

The beam struck the Andromedon and all at once it was lifted, dropping its weapon. The psionics seeped through its shell and reached the rider inside, covering it and then blossoming out. Though lacking a visible mouth, Mordenna could tell it wanted to scream, judging by the way it withdrew its hands from the suit’s arms and clutched its head, spasming violently. Benald’s blocky psionics encased its head while Pattie’s more fluid ones coated its body and appeared to  _ burn. _ To Mordenna’s gifted sight, he could see how the two signatures were affecting the Andromedon—most likely, that thing felt like it was encased in ice and getting burned alive at the same time.

But, something else developed. As this happened, Pattie’s psionics flared around its head and bloomed out like a corona. A very far-reaching corona. It seems the Trooper and Stun Lancer had made to run, but once that psionic bloom hit them? They shuddered violently and could only manage backing up in pain. Huh. Pattie—or Benald, or any mix of the two—seemed to be projecting the Andomedon’s pain out radially.

All in all? Pretty neat. Pattie and Benald might’ve just stepped up on Mordenna’s interest scale. He saved the Stun Lancer the headache and parted his skull clean from his shoulders.

Meanwhile, Kalight siphoned some of the excess psionic energy coming off of that corona. If he was any worse for wear for encountering it, his helmet wasn’t very telling. He pooled it into his gauntlets, and with a mighty fling, sent it right at the Trooper. That psionic feedback must’ve been enough to kill her, as the soldier slumped over and didn’t move again.

From there, the bolt of psionic lightning hopped over to the Andromedon. Once Kalight’s psionics hit the mix of Benald’s and Pattie’s, the whole union collapsed in a violent, twisting storm of psi energy. With the sound of a lightning storm close enough to make your hairs stand on end, the whole turbulence winked out. The Andromedon pilot, too, slumped over. Like clockwork, the AI in the suit took over and reanimated the chassis... just in time for Julian to shred it with plasma and expose a weak point in the armor that Mordenna happily took advantage of.

Three shots. Mordenna’s sniper rifle generated its own ammo... but he  _ did _ have to cycle the chamber every so often to generate more. He pulled back a lever on the side and the gun hummed with new energy.

Over his Darklance, he watched as the bolt of lightning made a final jump to the last Viper, making her double over... just in time for Mary’s shot to go sailing right over her head. Whoops. Well, Mary couldn’t have accounted for that. She’s just human, after all—Mordenna would have waited to see the chain reaction resolve,  _ then _ take his shot, but oh well. The Viper rose back up.

ADVENT, overall, may have been dumb, but the individuals? Not so much. Mary was obviously their medic, to the Viper’s eyes. Taking her out first and then backing up for more support seemed likely. The Viper locked her eyes on Mary, and with a lunge, her tongue telescoped out and wrapped right around the Specialist’s neck. Mary was yanked screaming from her cover—still clutching her rifle, impressively—as the Viper flew into the encompassing cover of one of the train cars, out of sight. Her GREMLIN uttered a beep of alarm and flew after its operator.

_ Well. She’s dead, _ was his first thought. All the Viper had to do was sink her jaws into her—or squeeze hard enough, and Mary would be gone. Still, might as well try to do something about it. Mordenna got as far as climbing up on the rock he was using as cover before a shot of plasma rang out.

Nearby, the squad seemed torn between responses. Julian merely shook his head while Pattie very  _ loudly _ cussed. Kalight was rushing up to get a good bead while sticking to his cover, and Benald wasn’t far behind.

But... Mordenna knew that exact shot, the frequency between bursts and the sound of how the Elerium was exactly  _ un _ balanced. That was a Codex rifle. Must’ve been one behind the train. Mary was very dead.

Well, if the universe had decided the funniest course for Mordenna’s life was to work with XCOM, it was still a hell of a jokester. Back into sight, Mary scuttled, scooting herself back with one hand and her legs as her rifle was shakily pointed at something in front of her, still behind the train. Her front was coated in orange blood.

Before Mordenna got too far in running situations on what happened (his first guess was a  _ hilarious _ miss), a very distinctive,  _ electronic _ voice rang out. “ _ Don’t shoot I want to help! _ ”

That. That was a Codex.  _ The _ Codex that had fired. If Mordenna remembered voices correctly—and he usually did, then that Codex was... “Mary. Mary tell that Codex to stand in sight of the squad if she wants any chance to speak.”

From where he was, he watched Mary swallow, nodding. “Y-you. Come forward. They want to see you.”

From behind the train car, a Codex stepped out—her hands above her head and rifle hung at her hip. She turned towards the squad, as if about to speak—and then her head snapped over to Mordenna. The two exchanged a long glance before she spoke. “ _ You! _ Ref-Il Mordenna! I’d heard through my network that one of the Chosen had defected, but this is—”

“A sight for sore eyes?” He tried to finish for her. “A pleasant turn of events? You better not say a surprise,  _ Wiki, _ or I’m going to shoot you right now.”

Wiki, the renegade Codex, scoffed. “Of course not a surprise. Why do you think  _ I’m _ here? Because I loved Odin’s coding language a whole bunch?”

“If the answer isn’t ‘fuck no,’ you’ve disappointed me.”

“Fuck no.”

Mordenna clapped his hands together after putting his Darklance on his back, grinning. “Fantastic! Commander, I’ll give you the low down. This is Wiki, a rogue Codex— _ apparently. _ When didja spring loose?”

Wiki rolled her hand, no longer raising them in a pacifying gesture. “After you got disconnected. The Network took another major hit and the protocols that were keeping what little loyalty and blindness I had in place got overloaded and I was officially liberated. Took a sizeable chunk of data, then went on my way out in a pretty spectacular fashion.”

“I hope you know that’s a story for later you’re going to have to describe,” Mordenna replied, hopping down from his rock but remaining on his hill.

“Does that mean that, if I asked, I could join you all?”

“Hold the phone, sparky.  _ That _ depends on what the Commander thinks.”

Wiki nodded, though by the way the streams of data coming off her head sped up? Someone was excited at the prospect. “Well. Ask her? Or hook me up and I will.”

Mordenna shrugged. He’d handle it himself. “So, Commander. You heard her. Wiki’s a known troublemaker with the Elders and ADVENT, so her story checks out to me. Codices also literally can’t lie, so she’s definitely telling the truth in all aspects. I don’t think I need to tell  _ you _ why having a Codex on your side is a good idea.”

There was a bit of silence over comms for a second, like Eliza was considering the idea. Didn’t take her long to reply, though. “ _ I’d like to further discuss arrangements when you guys aren’t in a live fire zone, but for now? Tell Wiki she’s cleared to join up with Menace. _ ”

The Hunter spread his hands out, grinning. “Welcome to XCOM, Wiki. Don’t fuck it up.”

Wiki flickered a bit in this dimension—Mordenna could see her passing into a closer one for a few split seconds. Must’ve been some expression of excitement, as she fell in with the squad. Mary trailed after her, fruitlessly trying to wipe some of the blood off of her armor. “Happy to be here, everyone,” Wiki began, “You heard Mordenna. Call me Wiki.”

Mary, meanwhile, pushed her glasses back into order. “—Wiki. Firstly, thanks for saving me. Thought I was a goner. Secondly, Wiki like ‘short for Wikipedia’ Wiki?”

“The very same,” Wiki replied, “and hey. No problem. Wouldn’t exactly endear me to XCOM to let one of their operatives die and  _ then _ try to be allies.”

“First I’m listening to the  _ Hunter _ for orders,” Julian grumbled, “and now we’re letting a  _ Codex _ into XCOM? I almost prefer the towers.”

Wiki cocked her head at him. “A SPARK, right? You don’t look like the one XCOM usually fields. Different neuroptics style.” She paused. “Different  _ personality, _ too.”

“Yep!” Mordenna finally chimed in, though his gaze was elsewhere. He was scanning the rest of the battlefield to see if they should even be  _ having _ this conversation. “My sis shanked our other one. He’ll be fine. Probably. We had a backup for him.”

“A shame. I wanted to talk to him.”

“Might still get your chance, if you play your cards right.”

Wiki nodded to that, then snapped her fingers. The sound was like multiple static shocks at once. “Right. I love some small talk but you guys have a few pods on your hands. They sent this team to deal with any interference and there’s another team coming to repair the train and get things moving again. Second team will be a while—you clear out this area fast enough and take the supplies? You’ll never have to deal with them. You just took out the heaviest firepower of the ‘insurance’ team so the rest should be easy. Just protect your medic and you should be fine.”

“Amen,” Mary concurred, “I’d like to go at least the rest of this  _ month _ without getting grabbed like that again.”

Julian scoffed, but didn’t say much else. Looks like he didn’t appreciate Mordenna intervening before he could speak, but hey. If Julian said less? Fine by Mordenna. The Hunter kept his eyes forward. “Sounds like you’ve scouted the place out yourself, Wiki. Got any enemy numbers on your databanks?”

“Sure do, and their rough positions as well.” Wiki gestured north of their position, fairly dead ahead. “Squad of three over in that direction. Two Stun Lancers and an Officer.” She then moved her hand slightly to the right. “Squad of five. Two Troopers, a Shieldbearer, a Sectoid, and another Officer. Nothing more outside of that.”

While she had been explaining, Mordenna had taken the sniper rifle off of his back and angled it on the rocks again. As good as the scouting info was, that *was* a lot of noise they had made just now. One of those squads of goons should be running towards their position while Wiki exposited. Running. He strained his ears. No hyper-sensitive hearing like his sister, but he wouldn’t be lying in saying he could pick out a bit more than usual.

_ Running. _ Ah, there they were, the sounds of scuttling footsteps. Just a few stone throws to the northeast. Mordenna eyed through his scope. Yep. Two Troopers, with the Officer a few paces behind them. The Officer said something to the effect of “move on, I’ll get a distress flare ready.” Couldn’t have that. The Troopers moved on. Now, if he was getting a flare ready, he was about to stop, yes? Against the dry tree near him.

Mordenna acted on his predictions and pulled the trigger. True to form, there was one less Officer to deal with, the Troopers wheeling around at the sound of his body hitting the ground. To the right, the sound of alarmed shouting. To the left, Menace One-Five (plus one Codex) getting into cover.

He could feel that primal compulsion that Odin drilled into his head rear its horns into his consciousness. Mordenna  _ had _ to drop a few more bodies. The momentary release of dopamine was fleeting, but  _ there. _ In a forced life like this, where all the Hunter knew was either the thrill of the hunt or the cold, choking mist that was everything else... he’d scrabble for every happy feeling he could manage. It just also happened that he was fighting for the “good guys.”

Another trigger pull. Another dead body. Another rush so quickly taken by the next moment. This is just how life had been for him, for fifteen years. He pulled the trigger and found joy in a well-aimed shot, even if it was his norm. His mark fell to the ground and the mist closed in again, leaving him scanning for the next target. Kill, rush, icy fog. Squeeze, happy, sad. The Hunter could mouth along the words.

Another trigger pull. Well, the cold fog wasn’t everything. There was the little thrills he got from annoying his siblings. There was the resigned dread and  _ pain _ whenever Odin or the other Elders brought out the metaphorical belt. There was the mounting gloom and pointlessness that all lead up to the conclusion of one of his many eternal lives. Formerly, anyway. Then there was the shame afterwards. Mordenna supposed he felt. He just didn’t  _ like _ how he felt.

Reload. This probably wasn’t the best coping mechanism. But hey, no therapists for Chosen.

Another trigger pull. He was so used to the Network in the back of his head that would quash thoughts like this. Mordenna didn’t like thinking over himself often, but here he was, contemplating himself even as he was trying to find some form of  _ escape. _ No rest for the weary, and he couldn’t seek the brief embrace of death anymore. Really, had anything changed? He was killing again, seeking that dopamine, losing it the second he put his hands on it. Different side, sure. Different person slinging the orders, yes. But when you got down to it?

_ What was the point. _

“ _ Nice work, Mordenna. Don’t think I’ve seen a cleanout like that in quite a while. _ ”

The voice of Eliza over comms was what broke him out of his trance, and shook off a bit of the fog. He blinked, looking over his rifle. It was a pretty grisly scene—all of the enemies Wiki had scouted were accounted for and dead on the ground. The Hunter could most definitely identify a few as his kills, judging by the bullet wounds or occasional  _ lack of heads. _ He hadn’t moved from his spot, though his own squad was dotted here and there. Kalight was walking back from the Sectoid while Pattie and Benald exchanged some secret handshake.

Over as quickly as it began, to him. Maybe that was a good thing. If he’d been left to his thoughts any longer after he thought  _ that... _ no telling where he could have gone. But, it had passed through his head. It was on the table now. This was always how things started. How was he going to even work through this, considering his answer every other time had been to kill himself?

Still. The Commander  _ had _ just talked to him. Better respond. “Of course, Commander, just doing my job as a cold mass-murderer. I bet you can hardly ask for a better serial killer on your side, yeah?” That... probably didn’t inspire confidence. It didn’t inspire confidence in Mordenna, who was already regretting it.

Thankfully, Eliza didn’t leave the silence there for him to mull over. “ _ More than that, Mordenna. Check the crates, make sure everything’s there, then pop off a flare for Firebrand. _ ” Her tone  _ definitely _ implied she had more to say to him outside of three assuring words. Another  _ talk. _ Grand.

He kept a sigh to himself, rolling his shoulders. “Fine. Hey, goons, handle that. I’m going to stay on watch. Wouldn’t want that secondary squad shoving their rifles up our asses.”

“ _ Delegating _ your tasks, oh mighty Hunter?” He really wished Julian would cram a sock in it. Now wasn’t the time. “Here I thought you lived for field work.”

“And here I thought I’d stop shooting SPARKs after I shot out SYN’s leg joint!” Mordenna replied, chipperly but with a definite threat behind what he was saying. Julian certainly got the threat, and it stuck—the robot fixed his gaze on the Hunter and then backed off, directing his attention elsewhere.

It seemed at that point that people got the gist that Mordenna didn’t want to be messed with—Kalight set about cracking off the flare while the rest checked through the supply boxes. Meanwhile, Mordenna slunk behind the rock he’d been using as cover and dully stared into the sky. 

No death of his own to find solace in when the world became too much. Some self-aware part of him once again piped up about the questionability of his coping mechanisms, and he easily shooed it off. What was he to do, open up? That was invitation for “you’re a Chosen. How hard your life has been doesn’t mean anything compared to the thousands you have killed in the name of the Elders.” It was an inevitability. Soon, Eliza would see that too, and he’d be alone again.

She just needed to  _ see _ it.


	17. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eliza learns something new from the Templars, and Fal-Mai learns something new from Eliza.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! Now no one can come after me with jokes about not updating SFTD this year.

A certain bite of cold was in the air around the temple that hosted the Templars.

Not that it was nearly enough to dissuade Eliza’s current trip outside, accompanied by Kalight on her left as she made her calm walk up to his headquarters. She had finally,  _ finally _ gotten around to landing here so she could discuss business with Geist—and the concern of the new recruit he wished to send her way. Hopefully, the time she had provided would be enough for him to handle what he needed to with his own members in order to send Marlene.

The temple in front of them was, admittedly, impressive. Eliza didn’t know if Geist had sought out an old stone building and restored it or rallied his followers into building one from the ground up. It seemed very fitting of an order like the Templars—though Eliza also wondered as to how it hadn’t been _found._ Over her time of knowing Geist, she hadn’t found answers to either question, and supposed she might never. Well, they weren’t particularly critical questions to her, so she only saw fit to muse on them.

About the time Eliza and Kalight entered the courtyard, Geist stepped out. He had his armor on but the helmet she occasionally saw him wear to the personal meetings was off. As to why, she could only guess. Regardless, Kalight kneeled into a bow next to her, and Eliza nodded respectfully. “Greetings, Geist.”

“Commander O’Leary.” Geist nodded to her back, and then addressed his Paladin. “Paladin van Steele. Wonderful to see you once more.”

“As it is you, my Prophet,” Kalight said, moving to stand. “How fares the temple?”

“As the months grow colder, the warmth that the summer brought evaporates... but you very well know how some of your fellow Knights will take the adversity.”

“With a song in their heart and frostbite in their fingertips?” Eliza interjected.

Kalight held a hand over where his mouth would be in his helmet, and Geist’s mouth twitched. Somehow that told Eliza they’d tangled with that happening more than once... more than enough to joke about, at least.

Still, Geist looked like he wanted to focus on business. He straightened, drawing their attention back. “Nevertheless, I would like to focus on why you are here today, Eliza. I appreciate the  _ ample _ time you have given me to ensure the Seer’s passage into your ranks would be largely unobstructed.”

Kalight and Geist seemed to share a look. Eliza’s skin pricked peculiarly, then Kalight nodded in some unseen understanding. Curious, but Eliza wasn’t about to stop the conversation for that. “Only  _ ample _ through outstanding missions, I assure you, Geist. Glad you enjoyed your extra thinking time though.”

“As always, Commander. Now, as for the Seer—”

Geist didn’t need to explain much longer. From the temple doors, out stepped one of their own—clad in green armor with a sash in front that held up an uneven cape in the back. Their gauntlets seemed more inscribed than standard fare, with glowing inscriptions of perhaps Elerium origin pulsing as they walked up to the group. Their head was completely covered by a silvery, skull-fitting helmet—four lights arranged in a circle in the front with an additional one in the middle, all pink. Three very long,  _ floating _ tubes extended from the relative back and sides of the helmet, trailing behind them as they moved. As they got closer, Eliza couldn’t help but think they were awfully  _ tiny _ , maybe reaching 5’4” with the help of their boots.

They reached the group and bowed to those gathered. Geist gestured to them. “Eliza. This is our Seer—Marlene Kara. She will be assisting your efforts for as long as she is needed upon your ship. I firmly believe you will find her talents well.”

“I can vouch for that,” Kalight added. “Our Seer is a formidable psion, even amongst Templars and what users you have in your ranks.”

Marlene drew up from her bow... and though she was wearing a helmet, Eliza couldn’t help but think she was looking directly at her. Rather intently at that. Eliza’s ears pricked with the sound of whispers and she turned to Geist, eyes sliding to the side for a second to try to determine the source. Maybe best not to bring up that she was hearing whispers... “I’m glad that you’re sending an apparent prodigy my way, Geist. The help is very much appreciated, and I’ll remember it whenever you need something out of me.”

He nodded, face softening a touch. “It is noted, Commander.” His eyes then slid over to a point  _ just _ above Eliza’s head, then to Marlene. “Seer? Do you have something you wish to impart?”

Marlene was quiet a moment longer before she spoke. “Holy Father. Surely you see that which cloaks this... Commander?”

Oh, man. Eliza didn’t think she’d be getting ominous predictions from prophets within this lifetime, but here she was. Geist looked to Eliza for a bit, then back to Marlene. “What do you see?”

“Her psionics.” Marlene was stock-still as she spoke. The whispers hadn’t stopped. “I have no doubt in my heart as to your knowledge that she possesses them... but do you see their nature? Their  _ color? _ I would not have imagined that  _ light blue _ would be a possible hue... until I had forseen it myself.”

... what? Well, Eliza was vaguely aware she  _ might _ have psionics. That whole  _ Siren _ business Mordenna had dropped on her seemed pretty indicative of that. But...  _ light blue? _ Eliza was pretty sure only the pink to purple spectrum of psionics existed—and then the weirdness that was the Warlock’s, a blend of purple and red. Her gaze flickered between Marlene and Geist. “... Geist? I would...  _ assume _ since she’s called ‘the Seer’ that she can pick out things others wouldn’t necessarily notice, but?” That also raised the question if  _ Mordenna _ had ever seen them.

Geist looked at Eliza intently. Then, he stepped forwards, towards her, until there was barely a foot of space between them. He squinted, and before Eliza could say anything of personal space (though Geist was enough of a looker that she held her tongue longer), he backed off. “My Seer speaks the truth, Eliza. Not only do you possess the Gift from the Earth Herself, your expression of it is... highly different from what even I have seen. Light blue, yes.”

Eliza gave herself a minute to think over that before she replied. Light blue psionics. Surely Tygan was going to have a field day with that... assuming this wasn’t just news to her. Had anybody been hiding it in fear of what might happen if she knew? Eliza... didn’t like considering that. She moved from her thoughts and back to the conversation. “Alright. Thus having established that I have some abnormal psionics... should there be anything done about them? As you two have said, light blue doesn’t strike me as a ‘correct’ color.” 

“It may not be ‘correct,’” Marlene began softly, “but nor is it ‘wrong.’ Not now, in any case. All psionics may trend towards perversion or ascendance—it merely depends on the user’s psyche and intent. Yours... I have the impression that they are  _ soft. _ Weak now, but with time and patience, they could grow to considerable strength. While still retaining their ‘soft’ signature, of course.”

Eliza nodded. “That... sounds reasonable to me. Best I get a handle on my psionics before they do anything to me yet, anyhow, or get out of control.”

“Indeed. And if you would allow me...” Marlene paused. When she resumed speaking, her words were careful. She seemed to be picking them wisely. “I... would be accepting of teaching you. I am of good knowledge of the mental aspects of psionics—but I am not the most skilled teacher you could have, of course.”

“But a fine one nonetheless,” Kalight countered.

Marlene seemed to acknowledge it, but move on regardless. “‘Monitoring’ would perhaps be a more accurate term. They should not come to harm you of their own accord, but understanding them is key.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Eliza turned to Geist. “I assume the terms of Marlene’s stay are going to be the same as Kalight’s?”

“Correct.” Geist gestured to Marlene. “With additional details to be determined as the Seer’s discretion.”

That didn’t seem unreasonable. Kalight hadn’t made any unsightly demands thus far and she saw the trend continuing with Marlene. She clasped her hands in front of her and then addressed Marlene. “Welcome to XCOM, Marlene. We’re glad to have you.”

 

* * *

 

During her time in her cell, the Assassin kept coming back to the same thing—she  _ let _ herself be captured.

Yes, she had her justifications. She had seen the rather  _ irrational _ , emotion-driven behavior of the Elders. Of  _ Helena. _ The  _ punishment _ she had received... Fal-Mai found herself initially unable to really justify it. The brutality she and her brother faced was  _ beyond _ unreasonable.

Or... was it? Perhaps the punishment itself may have been slightly extreme, but that was one black mark on her relationship with the Elders. They must have been justifiably angry—it stuck Fal-Mai as natural to hurt over a child’s first major failing. Especially considering her previous ongoing efforts to root out the Skirmishers not going as fast as she would have hoped for. Helena must have had Her thoughts about it, but held Her tongue to see if Fal-Mai could pull if off. With that most recent transgression...

_ She had punished you for your  _ **_emptiness,_ ** a nagging thought went. That, too, Fal-Mai could start to understand. Emptiness itself could be an emotion. The Elders could grieve at the loss of a Chosen—that was Their right.  _ Emptiness _ gnawed at Fal-Mai’s gut.  _ Emptiness _ made her squirm with the feeling of it.  _ Emotionlessness _ was a calm state of mind. If she had been truly passive to it, she may have escaped punishment and remained in Helena’s good graces. As for Jax-Rai...

_ His failings were his own, _ she thought, closing her eyes as she sat cross-legged on the floor of her cell.  _ To be arrogant in the face of the Elders is a mark of ignorance. If he had practiced mere reverence, he would not have found himself in his position. _ That seemed to be solid logic to Fal-Mai. It placated her a bit. Having something even as small as that to hold onto when she could not think of a better reason was all she could do.

Undoubtedly, Mordenna would only have found satisfaction if it was either of them vanishing instead of him. Her brows twisted together as the thought of her other brother entered her mind. He was on this ship... lurking somewhere, undoubtedly. Surprisingly, he had not paid a visit to her yet. Either Eliza had him on a surprisingly secure leash or it was just a matter of time before he descended upon her, teeth bared.

_ They were just angry and wanted to take it out on someone, you gullible fuck! _

His words flashed across her consciousness and she almost winced. They had also shaken her in the moment—considering it was simply his nature to bruise with his words, she had thought she could brush them off in time. But still, they stuck with her... as did Eliza’s. The reasonings she had put up to her troubles and the things that had happened to her groaned under the weight of what they had said.

_ But if what the Elders had did was reasonable, why did you let yourself be taken? _ Simple. She had been too emotional in her response to Their judgement, and perceived Them through that critical lens. Her emotions were once again proving to be her downfall...

... so  _ why? _ Why did she have them in the first place? Surely it would have been easier for Helena to simply make her incapable of emotion. The reasoning of “you developed them against Her will” came to her mind, but that hit another barrier—was that to imply that Helena’s craftsmanship was  _ lacking? _ Was that to imply that She had made an error that made Fal-Mai this way? If she was truly made perfect, as Helena would have her believe... then she shouldn’t have emotions. She shouldn’t  _ feel. _

So she  _ let _ XCOM capture her. Helena’s flawless design, committing imperfect actions. Thinking against Her. Fal-Mai’s hands balled into fists and she fought off a tide of frustration and discontent. It had to be her fault, right? Helena said so.  _ Helena made something imperfect. _ Either the reality was that Helena truly had made something perfect and Fal-Mai had found a way to fail... or Helena had made her capable of emotion  _ knowingly. _ Then She had instructed her to not feel. The Assassin did not know which reality was worse.

If she was imperfect, what that it? Was that just a black stain on the rest of her eternally young life, to be doomed to fail because of Helena?

No. There had to be a reason,  _ any _ other reason for it. Maybe it was Helena’s plan all along. Maybe She had intended it as a learning experience. Maybe there was going to be a point along the way where Helena would have revealed Her grand intentions and told Fal-Mai  _ it’s ok now. It was to teach you strength. You can rest, you do not have to put yourself up to this any longer. _

Maybe. For better, and for worse, she would likely never know now. Not though her own eyes, anyhow. Her hands relaxed back into loosely hanging fingers, and she breathed a deep sigh. Her fate... was now in Eliza’s hands. Eliza did not seem to want to harm her... even if the things she had said stung. But they didn’t hurt like what Mordenna might say—there was  _ something _ to be gleaned from what Eliza had tried to talk to her about. It had left her with introspective questions, not stinging wounds.

Would a kind parent even give her the  _ impression _ that she would be reclaimed once she was safe within Their embrace again? Why did she consider Eliza’s former state to be such a blessing? Was the notion of being dead to the world and unable to act for one’s self truly an ideal? So many questions, and few she wanted to ruminate over the answers about. Despite herself... Fal-Mai wanted to speak with Eliza again. Maybe then she could glean some answers she actually wished for.

Fal-Mai was so lost in thought, she nearly didn’t catch the featherlight sounds of footsteps outside of her door. Whatever material the walls were made of, it was impressive—but still not enough to outmatch her hearing. When she registered the footprints, her shroud covered her—for comfort, and for concealment. She moved to stand, pressing herself against the wall.

The door opened... and, what was that human phrase? “Speak of the devil?” Eliza appeared, closing the door behind her as fast as she had walked in. The soft smell of earth and grass came in with her—which struck Fal-Mai as odd. It was... interesting to think that Eliza would ever set foot off of the Avenger. Was that a danger she was willing to handle? Fal-Mai seemed to be left with more questions by the minute.

Eliza’s eyes scanned the room, completely missing Fal-Mai as cloaked as she was. As far as she knew, her cloak was unique—her brother possessed a variant, but it was less “true invisibility” and more “distraction filter.” Capture devices did not seem to be able to record him when he didn’t want them to, either. She only knew this because he had used it once or twice to get into her Stronghold just to torment her, and he  _ deigned _ to tell her.

Discarding those thoughts, an impulse led her to dropping her cloak—just as Eliza opened her mouth to speak. Presumably to call out for her as she did last time. The Commander closed her mouth, gesturing to Fal-Mai to speak. After a second, the Assassin chose her words. “Your confidence in assuming that I would like to speak after what we had  _ discussed _ last time is a curious sort, Commander.”

To that, Eliza replied quickly. “Two things—one, if I don’t try, I damn myself to fail regardless. Two? Well, you dropped your cloak without me saying a thing. Presumably you  _ do _ want to speak.”

As always, Eliza was sure in her speech. Still, Fal-Mai had to probe at her. “And what if I had dropped my shroud merely to tell you that I never wished to discuss with you again?”

Eliza’s mouth settled into a line, but she ended up calmly shrugging. “Then I would have tried. Perhaps I’d give it one more shot at a later date, but if you didn’t want to talk... well, interrogating you wouldn’t strike me as wise for several reasons. I’ve effectively taken you out of the running. After the war, I could further decide what to do with you, but considering I have you safely locked up? I would consider it a general success.”

Fal-Mai studied her a bit more. There were many things she wanted to ask of Eliza... but if the Commander was here, she was here for a reason. “What do you want of me, Commander?”

In response, Eliza moved to sit on the floor. “While I do want a thing or two out of you, that’s not why I’m here today. Fal-Mai? I want you to ask questions about me. Anything you’ve got.”

That... caught Fal-Mai off-guard. Eliza  _ wanted _ her to ask questions? To probe into her and withstand whatever inquiries the Assassin had? Eliza was a very interesting human being. Perhaps this was one of the reasons Mordenna was playing along with XCOM... Fal-Mai ended up humoring Eliza, moving to sit back in her lotus position on the floor, with her hands still behind her of course. “Let me clarify this to myself; you  _ want _ questions to be asked of you. Right now.”

“Yep. Ask away.”

“Anything?”

“I’ll try to answer within reason, yes.”

Fal-Mai studied her for a second. “Elizabeth Rosetta O’Leary. Your full name was accessible on your file when you were still in service of the Elders. When that man—Bradford—took you, why did you not come back? You would know no suffering, even if your life would be... rather stationary.”

Eliza seemed to consider her answer carefully before she gave it. “Because I didn’t  _ want _ to be there. I didn’t want to be a vegetable in a tank, serving a bunch of aliens that had never  _ asked _ if I had wanted to command for them. No, they showed up one day, warred with me for half a year, then stormed my palace and kidnapped me by force.” She chuckled humorlessly. “I do realize I’ve done much of the same to you, but I’d at least like to make it your decision if you  _ want _ to work with me. There’s also a lot more in the fine details regarding it all, but I’ll go into them as you’re curious.”

Fal-Mai squinted at the Commander. It was... admittedly still hard for her to consider someone such as Eliza not wanting to serve under the Elders. Her grasp on it was slowly getting better... and now that she could ask questions? Perhaps she could get a better understanding. “But  _ why, _ Commander? It all would have made sense in time—the Elders make no moves without heavy consideration. Was some part of you not wanting to return and see what They had in mind for you? Surely you know They would happily accept you back and most likely spare those you cared for...”

“Well...” Eliza set the remote in her hands down, lacing her hands together and pressing her index fingers against her lips, thinking. “Let me put it this way: imagine if, after I had kidnapped you, I put you under. I got my scientists to put a device in you that would make you obey my every whim, no matter what you wanted to do. Imagine I did this without asking, without even stopping to consider what you might want. Let’s say I then put you on the battlefield and had you massacre ADVENT by the hundreds, the  _ thousands. _ All in pursuit of some larger goal that you’ve never been told.” Eliza spread her hands out. “But then! The Elders free you! You’re back in safety...” She then gestured to Fal-Mai. “ _ But don’t you want to go back? _ Everything would have made sense in time. Maybe you were one more killed ADVENT away from securing the future for everyone. Maybe you’ve just doomed us all. Why don’t you just go back to your abusers, Fal-Mai?”

That... gave Fal-Mai something to think about. Her eyes closed as a greater understanding came over her, of just what she was asking Eliza. True, the Elders... may have been the aggressors, twenty years ago. Fal-Mai truly did not know the details. At least, nothing outside of what she had read from files. To be captured, and put to work against your will, to be kept captive for twenty years? Fal-Mai could see herself despairing. She wouldn’t want to go back if she was freed. She’d very well fall into the Elders’ arms if They so let her and not leave until They cast her out.

She opened her eyes and looked at Eliza again. Had Eliza done just that? Had Eliza sought comfort in the likes of Bradford and the rest of her staff, once she had woken up? It was another question she could ask, but she left it to the side for now. “I believe I understand more now, Commander. Though I do not agree with your views... I see where you formulate them.” Thinking on her next question, her face grew somber. “How much do you think you know about what the Elders have ‘done to us?’”

“More than enough,” Eliza began softly, “to know that I need to get all three of you out of there. I’ve seen Mordenna get punished before, once or twice. Judging by what you said in the field, it happened to you and Jax once he was kidnapped. If trends continue, god knows Jax has been punished a second time for your kidnapping. None of you deserve that. None of you deserve abuse.”

Fal-Mai winced in pain at the memory. Not just of her punishment—of what she could only presume was Jax’s punishment, and his feelings on the matter. At some level, she knew the Chosen were linked—only just enough so that if one of them was experiencing an extreme emotion, the other two got ghosts of it. Questioning, terror,  _ child-like fright... _ that and more was what she had experienced quite soon in her cell. She could only think on what Mordenna felt and how he had dealt with it.

But even so, to think of anything the Elders had done as abuse? It was alien to her. Surely They only had the best in mind... but she knew that was flimsy. More and more of what she had seen and experienced was starting to lead her to a different conclusion, and she didn’t like the looks of it. The Elders were gods. More than gods. They were beyond reproach.  _ But They were the ones who told you that They were. Eliza’s mere existence outside of the Tank seems to prove that wrong, yes? _

To press those thoughts out of her head, she sprang for another question. “Why are you doing this?”

“... in general, or?”

“ _ This. _ Letting me ask questions. Questions you should not answer. Even after I made you angry by insisting it was a blessing you were in the Tank.” Fal-Mai had noticed the way Eliza’s hands balled into fists; could hear how her breathing stilled. Fal-Mai knew she had crossed a line there—and the fact that Eliza had not gotten furious or so much as raised her voice stuck with her. “You should have been angry with me. You should not be condoning this.  _ Why? _ ”

Eliza looked at her softly, with a kind of sympathy that just made Fal-Mai want to ask  _ why _ again. When the Commander spoke, her voice was low and gentle. “Fal-Mai. If I don’t let you ask questions, how will you ever learn what you should and shouldn’t do? How would you know anything about me? How would you ever have the confidence to  _ ask? _ I want you to ask questions so you know who I am. I want you to ask so you have the chance to be  _ comfortable _ with me. I’m not angry at you. I was  _ upset _ because it reminded me of bad memories, but not angry at you. There’s a world of difference between the two. Do you understand?”

Truthfully, did Fal-Mai? Her world was turning itself inside-out over these past few... weeks? She didn’t even know how much time had passed, how long she had been here exactly, wondering what the Elders really were to her. She could not ask Them questions of Themselves. She did not have the confidence to even try. She was not... comfortable with Them. She was not comfortable with her “Mother.” They had tried to comfort her. They had been comfort _ ing, _ at one point. But that was gone, now. They had done something painful, hurtful to her. They did not apologize. They only justified the punishment she was made to endure.

She wanted comfort.  _ Physical _ comfort. Her heart craved to be held and uplifted and not merely assuaged of worries that could not be spoken away. They could not, would not give her that. For one who had slain ADVENT’s enemies for over a year with only thanks to go by... Fal-Mai did not think she was entitled to anything. But, maybe a hug would have made everything the Elders did easier to stomach...

Eliza was still looking at her, waiting patiently for an answer. Fal-Mai opened her mouth to reply... then closed it slowly a second later. Did she understand something as simple as being able to ask someone in authority questions? Especially of themselves? She lidded her eyes. “... no, Eliza. I do not. The Elders... did not leave much room for understanding.” She closed her eyes, unable to look at the Commander any longer, especially with her next question coming. “Would you  _ want _ me? Not as a weapon, but as a...”

Fal-Mai trailed off, unable to finish the question. When it became clear she wasn’t going to finish it, Eliza took in a breath to respond. “Yes, Fal-Mai. As an ally. As a valued operative. And if you’d allow me... as a  _ friend. _ ”

A  _ friend. _ The closest thing Fal-Mai would have called a friend was her head Priest. Considering she had fought and died valiantly at her Stronghold, she was certainly alone now if she wasn’t before. She was quiet for a moment longer. “If I asked you to leave, would you?”

“Yes.”

“... then will you? You... have given me much to think over. I would like my privacy as I do so. Allow me to meditate for a few days.” She would have no way of telling if those “few days” had passed, of course, but she would like to think she could take Eliza on her word. “I will give what you have said—and your standing  _ proposition _ —serious thought. But I must make sure I am making the right decision.”

“Of course,” Eliza replied. Fal-Mai opened her eyes in time to see the Commander rising, grabbing the remote as she stood. “I’m glad you’re receptive, Fal-Mai. I hope you got to ask some of the questions you wanted to, and if you missed a few?” Eliza smiled. “You can always get to those later. Have a good... meditation, Fal-Mai. I’ll check on you in a few days.”

With that, Eliza tapped the pad... and this time, she kept her back to Fal-Mai, walking out the door normally and not checking over her shoulder or obstructing the whole doorway. Maybe she had forgotten. Maybe it was a gesture of trust. Whatever the case, the door closed, and Fal-Mai listened as Eliza walked away from her cell.

It was a second or so longer before Fal-Mai allowed herself to slump back against the wall.  _ Friends. _ With  _ Eliza. _ The Commander of XCOM and wayward soldier of the Elders. Something in her gut burned at the thought of it... but the burning was not unpleasant. It spoke of a need, one her heart had craved. A  _ friend. _ Friends under the Elders? Impossible. Certainly not possible with the atmosphere she shared with her siblings. Being friends with Eliza... seemed like a far-off good dream. Could she achieve it? Would it be viable? Did she really want to?

Fal-Mai closed her eyes once more, slipping deeper into her thoughts. She... wanted to be comfortable with someone. Wanted to trust them. Wanted to know that they were there for her and  _ would _ be there for her. Would Eliza do that if Fal-Mai joined with XCOM? She, undoubtedly, could never go back to the Elders if she did such a thing, and yet the more she thought on it...

She didn’t know if she wanted to go back to them.


	18. Depths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two Elders convene as Jax takes a walk, finding and discovering more than he thought he would.

As a place of in-betweens and great power, the Void could be regarded as an entity unto itself—breathing, pulsing, even moving on occasion. The ephemeral fog and foam that defined its boundaries shifted and twisted. Without warning, to most.

To an Ethereal such as Argus? It was a reluctant home.

Argus had been traversing the vast expanse of the Void manually for a little while now. Teleportation was entirely possible for them and by far the faster way to go anywhere, but... There wasn’t much to do, for them. Being the Collective’s greatest geneticist meant that they had dabbled long into the work on their sacred Project... but it was hard to make any progress when they were getting stonewalled  _ again. _

They sighed gently. Red-tape was a staple of the Collective and they knew half of it was out of spite at this point. The Collective would agree eventually to the changes Argus had proposed, but for now? They were left with nothing but to wait.

So a short “walk” it was. The humming of the Void and the gentle, but encompassing vibrations that reverberated endlessly was the only thing outside of power-based sight that Argus experienced. The Void was nothing more than a temporary safe haven as their bodies decayed. Even Argus’s rotted as they traversed, a constant clock over their head.

Well, that and the  _ physical _ clock of their Phantom. Argus cast a look back up at it, and it to them. It had been their companion for as long as they could remember—a ghost of their own power and even an extension of it. Its form... varied, but the state of it now, Argus thought fitting. A shortened, grandfather clock for a head, multiple disembodied arms ever-changing in number, and a lower body that split into twin tails, helixing around each other. All purple, of course, formed of their own psionics. Phantoms were an extension of the subconscious and Argus knew much of it. Argus knew much of time—their plans, long-winded but effective. But of course—

Ah. Who else to interrupt their thoughts than that  _ orchestra? _ The sensation of high-pitched trumpets of irritation were particularly evident in Cronus’s signature as Argus observed him teleporting in from afar. Perhaps if Argus acted fast enough, they could escape this. If Cronus was angry, this wasn’t going to shore up well for them.

No escape, however. Cronus turned—Argus was surprised he could hear their signature under the crashing cymbals—and glided towards them with clear intent. His own Phantom trailed after him, now out and free as opposed to the meeting, where they had all hidden theirs. Argus would liken the form of it to a Berserker—made as “masculine” as possible while maintaining the distinct outline and muscle-like plates. It did not hunch—rather, it kept a straight back that gave it an uncanny air compared to the usual leaning of a Berserker. Robes much like the usual Ethereal ensemble clad its body, and it, too, had four arms. Wicked, jagged horns as well. “ _ Argus! _ I knew you would deign to stalk this particular plane of the hellscape.”

Argus straightened, preparing for a long conversation. Their Phantom retreated behind them, in an effort to avoid confrontation. Cronus seemed to be practically... what was that human phrase? “Chomping at the bit?” Something like that. “Elder Cronus. I’m surprised you deigned to remember my habits.”

“Easy to gauge you when you stalk the same space,” Cronus returned. “Your habits and your plans share one thing—they’re tiresomely predictable.”

Goodness. Only a few exchanges in and Cronus was hitting the easy notes. Judging by the swell of the brass and the chuff of his Phantom, he was pleased with that little observation. Grand... “Predictable as we all know I am,” Argus carefully responded, “surely you know my next question is ‘why seek me out?’”

Cronus huffed, but got to it. “As estranged as you are from our affairs, I cannot trust talking to the others privately. Helena harbors no kind will towards me and I’m sure you understand that Odin seeks to undermine us all.”

Oh, wonderful. Argus had heard this wind-up before a few times. Cronus was about to use them to just talk at something for Void knows how long. Still, they kept their back straight. No use complaining too much or trying to deflect him too hard—Argus had seen where that had gotten them before. They could only try to get this over with quickly. “And your grievances, Cronus?”

“Firstly, that  _ ignorant _ ‘son’ of mine.” Jax-Rai was getting the short end of the stick recently. Argus counted themselves lucky they were able to intervene when they could. The Chosen didn’t deserve even half of the abuse that came their way, but Argus’s hands were largely tied in trying to help them. Only outstanding incidents like the flaying Jax-Rai got were major enough to stop. Void help Ref-Il... “Talking  _ back _ to me?! And daring to try to deface me in front of the others! I still cannot understand  _ how _ you were able to stop me from wiping him off the face of this pitiable planet.  _ Useless. _ ”

Was that “useless” at them or the Warlock? Could be both. Still, sensing that they were expected to chime in, they shook their head. “As I said then—he may be your ‘child...’” Didn’t want to say this next part. Their Phantom’s hands fidgeted out of sight. “... and you may be free to  _ punish _ him but you know how the Collective would look upon destroying your own creation in such a manner.”

Cronus flicked his wrist in irritation, disturbing his robes. “Of course—and Void knows  _ you _ know what gains their ire. You’ve been the cause of every rule in the guidelines by this point from your behavior, and I would not be surprised to find you making more.” He scoffed, and his Phantom crossed its arms. “Why, I would almost go so far as to say it was your doing that has me in this loathsome situation. One of your typical ideas...”

All blame seemed to fall on Argus. They were used to it by this point—was easier to blame the odd man out. “I simply drafted the concept of the Siren, Cronus. You were the one who decided to do something of your own with the knowledge within the file.”

Hmmm... bad nerve to hit, or maybe they just grazed one. The orchestra quieted down, and Argus could practically feel Cronus evaluating them, looking for some way to repay that observation equally. Finally, he hit upon something, Cronus’s Phantom staring him down. “That was the truth, was it... if you’re so partial to telling the truth, enlighten me, Argus; why  _ did _ you  _ delay _ so long with the Siren? Twenty  _ years _ ago you drafted the concept, and just on Unification Day you finally decided to act. That’s an interesting gap, even for  _ you. _ ”

There... seemingly would be no good way out of that one. Argus was silent for a moment, their singular instrument slowing tempo and growing softer. Cronus—nor the others—could know the truth. An expert excuse it was. “Truth be told, it  _ was _ still usual for me. You seem to know much about me, so you  _ would _ know I go through several concept phases, even if I have a definite outline. The observation of how you and the others’ Chosen were shaping out was part of my process—and the reason I took so long. On the Collective’s urging is when I finally decided I had seen enough and could move on what I had gathered.”

It was a while for Cronus to digest that—but Argus could tell they had him hook, line, and sinker when the orchestra resumed its usual volume and his Phantom relaxed. “ _ Hmph. _ For as much as I know you, I hadn’t considered that you were including the Chosen in on your experiments. It really  _ is _ typical of you, Argus.”

Argus’s signature returned to normality. Might as well include some “humor” to really hit it home. “While my plans have  _ ample time _ behind them, it is always for good reason, Cronus.” Still, didn’t want to stick on this subject, or just have Cronus vent at them for who knows how long. “Speaking of delays—how fares your progress on subverting those cuffs?”

Cronus waved a hand dismissively. “Please. I hardly require you to monitor my progress—and even if I did, you would find the job already complete. I have a solution in mind to deter XCOM’s attempts to capture our last Chosen, and I think all involved will find the method especially effective. No need for you to interfere anymore.”

Cronus’s tone made it clear he wasn’t leaving any room for discussion. Even then, Argus wanted to probe further... but knowing Cronus like they did? That was a recipe for disaster. Best to leave it for now. “Well, grand of you to have found a working solution yourself, Cronus.”

As always, Ethereals dealt in subtext, and Cronus seemed to catch a hint of it. “I ‘appreciate’ the ‘praise,’ Argus. You are ever so eloquent when it comes to laying on compliments.”

Well, with the way that was going, Argus didn’t see this going anywhere but down—a constant exchange of thinly-veiled insults, to be exact, and Argus wasn’t feeling it. “So, Cronus. Anything else you would have out of an Ethereal such as myself?”

Argus could almost hear Cronus’s sneer. “Considering  _ your condition _ , calling yourself that is frighteningly accurate.”

Ouch. Out of low blows, that was the lowest—and easiest, considering it had been an active choice on Argus’s part. Still, not as if the Collective could contest it, with the leverage Argus had... “—My question  _ remains, _ Elder Cronus.”

Cronus turned their head. “Nothing else, Argus.” Surprising, but welcome. Argus must have put their opinion out enough to convince Cronus it wasn’t worth it. “Go about your delays.” With that, the orchestra crescendoed, and then diminished to silence as the Void transported Cronus elsewhere.

When they were sure he was gone, they went back to their somewhat dread-inspired slump. Their Phantom gently rose behind them, planting one of its many hands on their shoulder. A nigh infinite expanse of Void and Argus  _ still _ couldn’t get away from the others. Some days, they were convinced it would be only the Pit to ward them away...

Argus knew well the Collective would only ever get close enough to throw them in there themselves.

 

* * *

 

The quiet, shuddering towers of a civilization lost echoed something in Jax.

It was as if their presence held a mirror up to him—looming over him and threatening to cave at any moment as he walked among them, peering into dusty windows at the featureless visages of the still-standing mannequins. Snow fell behind him, already sticking to the ground and blanketing the world in a cold embrace.

A “Lost City,” if he remembered some of the human terminology he had heard correctly. Filled with the shambling husks of twenty years time. Jax found himself contemplative amongst his melancholy as he went on his “patrol.” A “walk” was more apt—Jax had to get out of his Stronghold. He had asked to Void to deposit him where it may, and this was where he had ended up. He couldn’t face his Priests anymore—not after what he had asked of them. He knew what he had done; he had asked them to abandon him when he would need it most. Denying them that... was most likely making them suffer.

But he far preferred it to the alternative—having XCOM slaughter them by the masses as they did naught but their duty. He knew the identity of every felled Priest that had been in his care. Jax had been determined to make sure that number did not rise any further from where it stood. They deserved far more than death at the hands of the pitiful resistance. Perhaps far more than him...

He lidded his eyes, sweeping them over the ground. The alternative there wasn’t any prettier either. If he wasn’t looking after them, who would? The Elders would doubtlessly send them to “fulfill their duties” and he... understood Their intent. But the Priests were his. He would not see them massacred.

The Warlock’s eyes and thoughts stopped once they rested upon some fresh tracks in the snow: bare feet, moving out of an alleyway and towards some unknown destination. Curious, Jax broadened his gaze. More and more footprints were in this area than he had thought—and they were all leading towards the same general direction. From what he had seen of the Lost, they only traveled in small groups when not otherwise frenzied...

Jax’s intrigue spurred him into following their trail deeper into the city. There were far too many tracks to suggest an entirely quiet atmosphere in the city; Jax was surprised he wasn’t hearing anything. Then again, with the snow? It was likely muting any sound of commotion.

Well, he was not his sister, nor his brother. He could not hear through the dampening effect the snow created, and he could not peer into the far distance and look closer at the tracks. But, the Warlock had talents of his own. Closing his eyes, he stilled his breath and fanned out his signature.  _ Sensing _ was one of his specialties—all living things, and some unliving, possessed a psionic signature. Even those who lacked the Gift had psionics cling to them like wisps.

There, in the distance. A horde of weak motes were advancing on a group of slightly stronger embers... with a bright,  _ recognizable _ beacon in the middle. Suddenly Jax understood—that signature belonged to  _ Iris. _ One of his Priests, sent on a mission he had deemed safe! The motes were slumping over at a reasonable rate, probably gunned down by the troops that surrounded Iris. Their squad was the only one for a long while... but what was—

Jax doubled over, coughing despite himself, lungs burning. He had once prided himself on his deep-search ability and how long he could stay within Stasis as he summoned his armies, both depending on his ability to breathe slowly and shallowly or simply hold it. Ever since Cronus had...  _ marked _ him, his lungs protested at such extremes. A sense of mourning took over him for a second—but it was quickly washed out by purpose. Iris’s squad was getting overrun by Lost. He had to do something. Jax couldn’t sit there and lament.

Leaning forwards, Jax broke out into a sprint. The image of where the squad was was still imprinted onto his mind and he moved accordingly, weaving through buildings. To the alleyways on his sides, he could hear more movement—undoubtedly the Lost, hurrying to the same destination he was. As he got closer, the commotion was finally proving too much for the snow to mute; mag fire and the dying wails of Lost were filling the air.

He knew he couldn’t stick to the ground too much longer, lest the Lost see him as a viable target and converge on him. His eyes locked on the building to his right as he ran and he stopped. With a mere flex of his psionics, a pillar of psionic energy rose under him, lifting him higher and higher. This building was one of the shorter ones, and he reached the top quickly, stepping off and looking over the scene below.

The squad was typical for one traversing through a Lost City—a few Purifiers and some Troopers, with a Shieldbearer to protect the squad and an Officer to direct it. In the middle of all of them and taking shots with her own rifle, Iris stood. It was clear a few of them were injured, but they couldn’t stop to tend to the wounded—the Lost were hounding them even as they swept their weapon fire over them. Jax watched as a Lost with green, cyst-like growths over its body broke free of the horde and scrambled under gunfire, making a beeline for a terrified Iris.

_ No. Never again. _ Jax could feel his consciousness roar as his psionics flared to life, the world slowing down as he focused on that Lost. The Void overlayed on the area twisted around him as he willed it, and he leapt forward. The Void carried him in its embrace and ferried him faster than sight to a quickly-shrinking space between the husk and Iris, landing on his feet. With a swipe of his gauntlet, he snatched the offender off the ground. It flailed in his grasp right up until he clenched his hand and crushed its neck, snuffing it out.

He could hear Iris gasp behind him as he dropped the corpse, and the rest of the squad near him pause and turn. Jax stood tall and quickly cast a glance over all of them. “No shepard in their right mind would abandon a flock in need. Fight! I will see you out of this city yet!”

The sight of most of them breaking out into grins and cries of victory warmed something in Jax’s heart and cut through his earlier melancholy. He focused back onto the hordes as his squad did. The problem was the sheer _ number _ of Lost descending upon them—there were almost far too many to even shoot, and Jax knew how...  _ lacking _ of a shot he was. It certainly wasn’t the only offence available at his disposal, of course.

Psi-energy lanced across the horns of his amplifiers, and he gathered his power into his gauntlets. He could see every weak spot of light that made up the Lost’s signatures. The fact that there was any at all didn’t surprise him, but it meant that they could be exploited. Flinging his right hand into an extended, open palm towards them, a bolt of energy lancing off it. It connected with the closest Lost, lancing to another, and another, and another... Some stumbled over and collapsed from the sheer friction and burn his psionics caused against their unprepared minds.

Some, however, stumbled... and stayed put. Jax could feel that familiar connection opening, the one that always did when he surged into the mind of another and took it over. The Lost were so  _ vacant, _ and lacked any willpower to fight against him. Normally he would find it challenging to maintain two controlled soldiers, but the Lost? The Lost were nothing. Jax could see what he could do.

With a swift command, the mind-controlled Lost surged against their fellows, grappling them and struggling to hold them in place. A Trooper to his right saw the opening and took aim, getting a clean shot on the trapped husk. His satisfied grin told of an opportunity taken, and the rest of the squad followed suit. Jax occasionally took the momentary breaks in the wave to control more Lost when his own numbers thinned, the horde slowly retreating under the new tactic.

As they fought, Jax looked over his shoulder at Iris. “—This was supposed to be a simple scout mission, was it not?”

Iris fired on a shambler. “Yes, my Chosen! Midway through, we had received a message from a nearby detachment—they had reportedly found the Reapers’ headquarters. They stopped responding soon after an explosion from their direction, and we were left to deal with these.”

Jax turned back to the hordes, sending a thin lance of psionic energy towards a Lost that was giving the squad trouble, watching as it crashed to the ground. “Our wisest course of action would be to retreat—your squad is not fit as is to handle the force of the cornered dogs that is the Reapers.”

“Precisely my thoughts, Warlock Tessura,” the Officer spoke up. “There is a docks area three minutes behind us that I can call down an evac from—the problem is getting there. We’ve got multiple wounded, some able to run, some... less so.”

Jax got the implication there, and looked from her to the squad. He could see who fit that bill—a Purifier and a Trooper in particular, propped up against an abandoned truck, bleeding but still firing on the horde. He... admired their dedication. The numbers of the Lost were thinning out, enough that they could make a break for it, provided they abandoned their most wounded. That would be the wisest course of action, yes? They were expendable—the Elders could make thousands more.

_ They could make thousands more Priests, as well. _

Jax found himself striding through the squad. “As I have spoke, only a shepard out of his mind would abandon a flock in need. The Lost are thin enough—I will turn their brethren upon them. We shall make for the docks as a unified force.” As he spoke, he ended up at the two wounded soldiers, who both looked up at him. After a moment, he crouched down, arms out. “When I speak unified, I mean it heart and soul. Come. If it means I must carry every last one of you out of here, let it be so!”

The two of them could hardly believe their eyes and ears—but they weren’t going to leave an offer like that from the Warlock hanging for long. He reached forwards as they reached out, clutching them to him as they adjusted over either of his shoulders. Jax stood and nodded towards the Officer. She nodded back, taking one last shot at a straggling Lost. “—You heard our Chosen. Disengage and follow me!”

The Officer turned and dismounted from her perch on top of the truck. Soon enough, the rest of the squad followed after ensuring their retreat wouldn’t be impeded—some soldiers even supporting others as they ran after their Officer. Jax himself willed his controlled Lost to shove down whoever they were engaged with and follow after them, a fair distance to the sides and ahead. He’d use them to scout for danger as he fell in line. He could work without his hands.

The blitz through the desolate city was accented by the thudding of footfalls and the crack of magfire. Each time one of his Lost scouts encountered more of their numbers, Jax would call out the direction—and soon the threat would be handled. Subconsciously—on his part and the squad’s—Jax found himself drifting to the front of the group, easily keeping pace with the Officer even with a soldier slung over either shoulder. They were almost nothing to him; he estimated he could pile on several more and the only thing he’d have to worry about was balancing them. The only thing that was threatening to slow him down was his own lungs, and he grit his teeth and took deep breaths, willing them to cooperate. He couldn’t show that kind of weakness in front of all of them.

As they sprinted through the city, Jax contemplated. The Trooper and Purifier on his shoulders were nobodies to him. He didn’t know who they were in the slightest—about the only person he had any attachment to here was Iris. So why did he bother? It was just as likely that the next encounter they would be in would be their last, and it wouldn’t have mattered if he had left them to die here. But as Jax thought of leaving them behind, something in him recoiled at it. They were nobodies.  _ Nobodies. _ An earlier version of him wouldn’t have hesitated to lead the rest of the squad on without them. So why?

He felt the Purifier’s  _ shaking _ grip on him tighten, and it twisted his heart. Echoing the action, he held them both tighter. The answer hit him: because they  _ were _ somebody. Maybe not to him. But in their squad, to their Officer, to  _ Iris. _ Leaving them behind would hurt them. Plus, leaving them said, in a way, he wasn’t confident enough to get them all out alive. Of course his pride wouldn’t have that! He was a  _ Chosen. _ He could save all of them and have them live to fight another day. He could... recruit them. Invite them to his Stronghold. There, they  _ could _ be somebody to him.

_ What if XCOM comes? _ The answer was simple—the very same he offered his Priests. Run. Hide. Escape his fate.

A cry to his left alerted him out of his thoughts. One of the injured Troopers must’ve had a worse injury than she initially thought and was on the ground, the Shieldbearer of the group trying to get her back on her feet. If she was falling down now, it’d keep happening. No problem to Jax. He halted in his tracks and ran over, he Trooper looking up as he arrived. “My Chosen, please, go on without—”

“ _ Nonsense, _ ” Jax cut her off firmly. “Dare you insist I could not save you, too?” As he said that, he twisted his signature, the purplish-reds of his power solidifying and manifesting at his sides as another pair of arms that reached out for her. He supposed she didn’t have an answer to his question, as she simply leaned into him as he lifted her up, slotting her between the other soldiers.

That handled, he turned back to the squad, expecting to have to cover some ground to catch up—just to find out they had stopped for him. Some were regarding him and the now three passengers he held, others were still on watch and shooting down Lost. He nodded to them all, and when he sprinted back to the front of the group, they were all on the move again. Once again, his lungs cried out in protest, but he further grimaced.  _ Not yet. _

A few crash courses through buildings and a duck through a warehouse later, Jax and his group came across the docks the Officer had mentioned. The Warlock stopped and turned. They’d keep a good enough pace that the Lost were far behind them—even farther with the interference he’d ran with the ones he’d controlled. With a mental flex, he found it easy to fatally sever the connections, feeling the lights in his mind’s eye darken and fade.

Meanwhile, the squad was preparing for evac. The Officer was cracking off a flare and speaking into an earpiece while the less injured were keeping watch for pursuers. Jax watched them go about their work until he could feel Iris at his side, psionically pinging him. He turned, nodding. “Iris.”

She bowed, slightly out of breath. “My Chosen. If... if you would please set them down, I can see to some rudimentary first aid until the transports arrive.”

That was a good idea to him. Stepping to the side, he kneeled down. First he sat the Trooper down, then the other two that had been slung across his shoulders. He got a quiet “thank you” from each of them, and he could feel a smile tugging at his lips. Jax stood, backing off as the extra arms at his sides dissipated. “I wish you—”

That was about as far as he got before the coughs he had held back came to him in force, making him bring a fist to his mouth as he delved into a fit. Squeezing his eyes shut, he wheezed for breath between hacks, hand shaking as he tried to reign it in. Eventually, eyes watering, he took in a deep breath and straightened back up. Desperately, he tried to play it off. “I wish you the best of luck, dear Iris. I will keep my sight trained firmly behind us, to ensure we will have little trouble.”

Iris... seemed highly concerned, as did the soldiers around him. Luckily, none of them apparently had the confidence to bring something up that Jax seemed very firm to brush off. “Of course, Warlock Tessura.”

That handled, he stepped past them and back towards the warehouse.

“My Chosen, wait.”

The Warlock looked back as the Officer called out to him. She was jogging up to him, weapon at ease and flare burning behind her. “You... you did not have to carry them. Or stop for our newest member. Yet... you did.” Now, was that a  _ smile _ she was showing? “Thank you. It is comforting to know our last Chosen still looks after his ‘flock.’”

There was a time when that statement wouldn’t be true, and Jax... rued it. Still, to the Officer he offered a softened expression and an incline of the head. “I would be a far lesser Chosen if I did not care for even the lowest of my ranks.”

“Forgive me for saying this, but we do not even belong to any legion under you.” She jerked her head at Iris, currently tending to the wounded. “I can only assume you were in the area to monitor Iris.”

He... did not want to disclose the real reason he had been out of his Stronghold and in some Lost City. Plus, to say he had  _ only _ been here for Iris... not true either, but not unexpected of him. Jax waved it off. “The reason I was lingering in the area matters little. What concerns us now is that you all are safe.” He gave her a knowing look. “The fact that the lot of you are not in any legion directly under me... can always be changed.”

She opened her mouth to respond to that, then closed it. Then she began again with a barely-restrained smile. “It... it would be an honor, my Chosen. Thank you.”

Jax’s chest warmed and he nodded to her, looking to the distance until he heard the roaring of engines behind him. He turned, and three transports were coming in, doors opening on their descent. Cords unravelled from within, dropping to the floor. Those who could stand on their own around him started making for the ships, some even carrying those unfit to walk.

He regarded the Officer a moment longer. “File in—I will have the appropriate proceedings done to incorporate you into my Stronghold done shortly. You have done well today, even if you were required to retreat.”

One more smile from the Officer, and a salute. “Thank you, Warlock Tessura. I and my squad will be awaiting our reassignment... eagerly.” With that, she marched off to be with the rest of her detachment.

Iris joined him at his side as the numbers on the ground became fewer and fewer. “There was a time,” she quietly began, “when I would not have imagined having anyone but me and my sisters at your holy Stronghold.” She looked up to him, and smiled softly. “I think it is a good change. You have done them a great deed today, my Chosen.”

He nodded. The last Trooper was being helped on, giving the Warlock a salute before she was lifted up. The transports full, the Officer waved them on, the sides closing. Dispersing the snow through force of lift, they sped off into the haze of the night. 

Iris looked after them, too. There was silence between them a moment longer... broken only by a cry from a Lost in the distance. She cleared her throat. “Back to your Stronghold, Holy Father?”

Jax nodded again, turning to her. Technically he didn’t have to do what he was about to do, but... He reached down and brought Iris into his arms, more intimately than the way he had carried the Trooper and Purifier. He’d just intended to carry her—but he ended up holding her closer and longer than he had meant to. A hug? Yes, it was a hug by most standards. Iris didn’t do anything for a second, but quickly snatched the chance and returned it. He sighed gently and peacefully.

He’d done good today. He’d saved people. It wasn’t the begrudging satisfaction of a haven overturned. This was a warmth that burned out the cold of the snow. Jax closed his eyes, feeling the thrum of the Void around him as he called to it. 

Warmth, closeness,  _ affection. _ All things he could not find in the Elders...


	19. Realizations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mordenna's mind drives him to show Eliza he's not worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains heavy suicidal themes and much more. Please be cautious in your read if suicide, the mention or heavy consideration thereof, is one of your triggers.

It’s been a real garbage week.

Well, Mordenna supposes, just for him. Really, it had only been a matter of time before his mood swung down again. That much he knew. Good things lasted for such a short time, and it was just only ever so perfect that the little happy place he was beginning to construct be shot down by none other than himself. God knows he didn’t deserve it in the first place. It was only a devil’s miracle that he’d been granted it, and the universe had a more cruel sense of humor than he did.

“Because who likes happy endings, right?” He entertained to no one in particular, in the vents. The ship’s walls were thick enough and his location far enough away that he was dead certain no one could hear him. “ _ Especially _ not for the serial killer—no no no. Who in the everloving  _ fuck _ would actually take a look at you, Mordenna, and actually see something worth salvaging? You actually  _ believe _ Eliza when she said that shit? Pathetic.”

He scoffed, face twisting. “ _ Pity. _ Like a wolf in a beartrap, that’s all she saw you as. ‘The poor thing’s  _ hurt. _ I ought to do something.’ Then when she gets bit she’ll see it’s just the farmer trying to warm the formerly-captive viper. Too soft for her own good.” He’d taken Eliza at face value, then. Not so much anymore. He didn’t take her for a liar—just took her as a fool. A well-intentioned fool, but a damn fool nonetheless. She would see in time that she made a bad call. She’d see that he wasn’t worth it. She’d see that she should have just let him  _ kick the bucket. _

Mordenna balled his hands into fists. “Ain’t like this wasn’t coming. Old man was right—I’ll fuck up eventually. I’ll do something  _ wrong _ and then suddenly everybody’s not so goddamn keen on me. It might not even be his fucking fault!” He slammed his fist against the vent. “For all I know I was a fuckup in the  _ Reapers _ too and that’s why I got taken! Sure I’m a ‘valuable asset’ but how fucking  _ valuable _ am I when I’m just gonna do something terrible eventually?”

He sat there, breathing a bit heavily, before closing his eyes. “Not like it wasn’t gonna happen eventually. Poor old Lizzie just needs to  _ see. _ Let’s make sure she realizes that sooner rather than later, yeah?” That was it. A rather regrettable aspect of his thinking had taken over, and soon he was quietly, but quickly, crawling down the vents. Mordenna wanted the hallway  _ outside _ the Chosen Holding Cells. Lily was probably in there, finalizing Jax’s cell. As tight as he could wind his distraction field around himself, he didn’t want to test if she wouldn’t notice an opening door.

Gently, he opened the hatch—not before listening for anyone walking around below him of course—and dropped, field closely wound around himself. He closed the vent opening behind him and looked to the door of the cells. Right—there was  _ that _ door to surmount, too. How to go about this...

Of course, Mordenna being Mordenna, he found an answer quickly. The other engineers were off on break now, the Hunter having memorized most everyone’s schedules. It was just Lily in there, and he knew how to draw her out. Stepping up to the datapad, it was easy to bypass the typical interface with the knowledge of ADVENT systems he had. Lily seems to have  _ defanged _ a lot of the more hostile elements... but if anything, that made it easier for him to infiltrate unseen. It was just a tiny edit, after all—the sender’s address. He changed it from “the terminal outside of the Chosen Holding Cells” to “the terminal in the Workshop” and that was all he needed to do, save populating the message field with the request for Lily to come down. He “needed some assistance, a second pair of hands.”

Mordenna hit send and closed the window. He waited.

Sure enough, the door opened and Lily emerged. She didn’t seem all too annoyed to be interrupted—more concerned than anything else. She passed right by Mordenna without sparing him a look. Not like she was expecting him to be right there, after all. Before the door closed, he slipped past her and into the room.

Nothing too exciting inside. Just the in-progress state of Jax’s cell, Lily’s tools, and the other two cells. He entertained leaving something in his as a joke before his thought process yanked on his choke chain and he was striding towards Fal-Mai’s cell, opening the door without hesitation.

For the briefest of seconds, he caught a hint of purple, but it was gone as soon as he entered, the door closing behind him. To anyone else, it was an empty room. Sans him, of course. To him... He squinted, letting his field drop. Still empty. Fal-Mai was  _ deep _ in her cloak. But! Unfortunately for her, he knew she was there... and he knew what would bring her out.

He crossed his arms, leaning against the wall. “Oh, poor, poor Fal-Mai. Retreating into her cloak because she can’t handle the thought of a little reunion with her brother. Always a coward, never a warrior, eh sis?”

Nothing. He needed to turn up the intensity. Mordenna scoffed. “Guess it’s usual for you to hide away into your little blankie. Never figured out how to handle things like an adult... least of all your poor, pitiable  _ emotions. _ You think it’s a coincidence your dear old mum gave you them and then told you to never use them? Hm?”

Aha. A shimmer in the corner, a sign of a  _ very _ distressed Assassin. Mordenna had found his mark. He grinned wolfishly. “ _ There you are. _ No use hiding, sis. I can sit here alllllll day and throw harsh truths at you, and they’re only gonna get  _ worse. _ Might as well placate me by returning some ‘banter.’”

It was a moment more before Fal-Mai dropped her cloak entirely, staring him down and pressed as far into the corner as she could manage. Her face spoke of rage, but her body language said she wanted to be  _ anywhere _ but here right now. “You act as if you know me at all, brother, when it is well known you only concern yourself with matters relating to you!”

He wagged his finger at her. “Almost! But a terrible misconception. Two out of five. Nothing wrong with focusing on yourself, dear sister—but there’s even  _ less _ wrong with doing a bit of  _ observing _ of others. Fantastic, the stuff you learn!” He turned up his nose at her, and his smile fell. “ _ So. _ How’d it feel, getting the belt? Horrible? Like you were getting disintegrated? Can only imagine Helena whipped you in front of Jax, too.” Jax  _ also _ being victim to that... twice... he wouldn’t mention.

Fal-Mai winced, squeezing her eyes shut. Soon, she shook her head and looked him back in the eye. “You do naught but reaffirm why I made the decision to leave the Elders. I suppose I would have been more hesitant if I had remembered someone such as you would be awaiting me.”

He shrugged, hands out. “Your fault on that. I’ve been here for... what, a month? A month and then some? You’ve had plenty of time to know I was batting for the other team, numbskull. Then again, you were always kinda slow on the uptake. Learning the Elders were hypocrites must’ve been a  _ blow. _ ” Mordenna tossed his head back, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead in mock woe. “Oh, the tragedy! The all-powerful  _ idiots _ and  _ psychopaths _ have conflicting ideas they want their ‘children’ to accomplish all at once! Who could have seen this coming?”

Fal-Mai grimaced and bared her teeth. “I was as you said—a child of the Elders.” Her brows knitted together in further fury. “And you, too, as much as you detest it!”

“Oh please, don’t come at me with the ‘oh, let Them back into your heart—’”

“Do not mishear me!” She cut across him. “You were a child of the Elders! They indoctrinated you as much as they did the rest of us! I would not imagine you would have many reasons to  _ leap off a building _ were they not a damning force in your life!”

He froze, regarding her icily. She shouldn’t have known about that. She shouldn’t have known about it at all. Mordenna usually made sure he was isolated before he let himself die.  _ Usually. _ It was a while before he responded. “You do realize the situation you’re in, right? You’re in handcuffs. I’m not. You’re bound. I could  _ strangle the goddamn life out of you. _ ”

She faltered, but a thorn in Mordenna’s heart told him she knew she had the advantage now. He  _ reacted. _ Fal-Mai had hit upon something useable. “Worthless. Is that what you see yourself as, now? They had more of a grasp on you than you think.  _ Odin _ had more of a grasp on you than you think. Try as you might, you are affected by what he says, brother.”

His upper lip drew back at the corner, revealing his own pearly whites. “You’ve got one more shot, sis.”

“What? Kill me as a tied up animal?” She spat out. “You and I both know you would find little satisfaction in such an easy kill. You live for each hunt. It is the only thing that gives you  _ happiness, _ yes?”

Conflicting ideas raged in Mordenna, and he locked eyes with her proper.  _ Kill her, _ something in him spoke.  _ Her fault. She’s shown she hasn’t got two wits to live. You’d get rid of her for good and give Eliza a reason to throw you out. _

**_Eliza._ **

Something in him, silenced in his self-destruction, roared at the thought of Eliza finding out he’d _killed_ his sister. That would devastate her. _Isn’t it the point? Kill._ ** _Kill._** It would tear her apart. She wouldn’t be able to forgive him. Eliza, the one person who gave him a shot after all that time. Introduced him to Lily, to Sammy. **_Kill!_**

His fist collided with the wall, and he closed his eyes. Mordenna hissed. “You’re damn lucky, sis, that you’ve got a guardian angel. But I’ll come back for you. And when that comes around? I’ll have a bullet with your name on it and the key to your cuffs. Just so I don’t have to get my hands dirty.” Waving at her dismissively, he turned his back. “Go. Hide away in your little comfort zone. But watch yourself—next time the door opens, it could be the last thing you see.”

All lame. All empty threats. He’s spared her and he knows she knows it. He doesn’t hear anything more out of Fal-Mai, and he doesn’t bother to check to see if she’s in her cloak when he opens the door and steps out.

What Mordenna doesn’t expect is Lily and the Commander coming in at the exact same moment he left the cell.

The two of them instantly lock eyes with him, and he’s the first to engage. “Liz! Lily! Oh, yeah, as it turns out? Didn’t need that help after all. Managed it myself! Surprising what you can finagle when you just really put the ol’ noggin to it!” Eliza wasn’t supposed to be here. Eliza was  _ not _ supposed to be here! Did Lily run right to her when it turned out he wasn’t in the Workshop? Did she encounter her on the way? Didn’t matter now, really, but this wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

Eliza crossed her arms. “Mordenna. I made it clear you were supposed to tell me before you went and talked to Fal-Mai, yes?”

Any pretense of levity dropped, and he scoffed coldly. “What, do I gotta ask you permission to fuckin’ breathe around here, Eliza? I ain’t some  _ dog— _ I’ve got free will. Or was how the Elders treated me suddenly looking real nice, hmm?”

Lily opened her mouth to interrupt, but Eliza was faster. “No. I only asked for you to ask  _ me _ because if you went off on your own you might do something you’d regret.”

“Me? Regret?” Mordenna laughed incredulously. “Ohhh, Commander, you’ve got it all wrong. I told you— _ you’re _ the one who’s gonna be regretting this arrangement when all’s said and done. I let you know I couldn’t work with my siblings! But here you are, acting all peeved that I went and antagonized my sister a little behind your back. I coulda killed her, y’know. She had the cuffs on, wouldn’t have been hard for me to just  _ wring the life out of her. _ ”

Eliza fixed him with an unreadable stare. “So why didn’t you? She’s your sister, as you said. You gave off the impression that you would kill her, given half the chance. Yet, judging by what you’re saying, she’s still alive in there. You stand only to benefit from her not existing anymore—even if killing someone in her state isn’t your style.”

Why did Eliza ever so consistently have his number? He couldn’t admit the real reason, and that real reason was sapping some of his more barbed answers, too. Mordenna flicked his hand, dismissing it. “Whatever. Not like I can’t just do something later, because Lily knows I’ve proven I can stand right by her and have her walk past me.” At that, Lily seems rather confused, but still frustrated. He moves on. “So, what are you going to do, Commander? Punish me?”

She shakes her head, still maintaining eye contact with him. “No. The blame only falls on me for not talking with you more extensively than I did. It’s clearly a bigger problem that has you seeking out your sister to get yourself in trouble. Do you think I’m going to change my mind because you’re ‘proving difficult?’ Are you underestimating what I thought I had signed up for?”

This... all was having the precise  _ opposite _ effect he had hoped for. Eliza was seemingly  _ more _ determined to work him out. She was going to regret it. She definitely didn’t know what she was in for. “You’d best be prepared to work on a project like me  _ 25/7 _ , Eliza. Considering you’ve got the Assassin here and are planning to take the Warlock under your wing, too? I somehow doubt you can pull it off.”

Eliza’s mouth further pressed into a line. “I’m going to be doing what I can, Mordenna. I’m only human—”

_ There it is. Capitalize on it. Make her regret this. _ The words raced from his mind and to his mouth so fast he didn’t realize what he said until after he said it. “ _ Only human? _ Bold of you to assume that when  _ Argus _ had you for twenty years,  _ Chosen Siren. _ ”

Almost immediately, he wished he could have taken it back. His chest ached instantly and all he could do was watch Lily and Eliza’s faces turn. Lily went from momentary surprise, to morbid, horrified curiosity, then to anger as she looked to Mordenna. Eliza, meanwhile, had that temporary shock, too... which turned to an expression that was her trying to hide a distinct  _ hurt _ and self-doubt.

“Does it  _ matter?! _ ” Lily was already hopping to Eliza’s defense, trying to brush off what Mordenna just said. “She’s got more than enough humanity to be a better person than  _ you _ are—”

“ _ Lily, _ ” Eliza eked out. Lily stopped in her tracks, face going to concern as she turned back to Eliza. The Commander’s posture was stiff, and her fingers were pressing into her arms as her gaze flickered downwards, but still in Mordenna’s direction. “Mordenna. I... I won’t lie. What you said... cuts deep. But—But I’m sure that was your intention.”

Oh, no. This... wasn't what he was ready for. Anger, definitely. Dry disappointment, he could handle. Eliza looking like she was ready to start crying, to his observant eyes? It felt like something was squeezing his chest, leaving it throbbing dully. A softer, quieter thought process came back.  _ You hurt her. Why would you do this? What has she done to deserve your ire? She just wanted to help you. Was her care and attention not enough? _

Too late to say he was sorry. Too late to try to take it back. He’d stuck his knife into Eliza and now she just had to deal with the wound he had dealt. He didn’t even want to continue the conversation, for fear of saying something  _ else _ that would sting her.  _ Their eyes are off of you. You know what you can do. _

Mordenna sucked in a sharp breath and brought in his misdirection field—an unseeable force that quickly seeped into his pores and made it so that they would have the inclination to just not  _ register _ him if they weren’t looking hard enough. True enough, Eliza seemed to gather herself enough to look back up to continue—and then she did a double-take, eyes searching around the room. Lily joined her, whirling behind her. To their eyes, he was as good as gone.

Mind running at a million miles an hour with unreadable thoughts, Mordenna hastily made for the vent, popped it open, and crawled inside, shutting the hatch behind him and making for some spot deeper inside the ship. He didn’t even care if they saw the entrance opening as he made his way in. He was gone, vanished from the scene, and that’s all he had been aiming for. He didn’t give his thoughts any attention as he scurried, movements near silent as he focused on moving unheard. Deeper. He needed somewhere isolated.

Eventually he reached that spot—a particular bend that led up to the very top of the Avenger. There, he slowed down and eventually slumped against a wall in the vent, starting at his own warped reflection in the ladder rungs.

He’d... out and out, to Eliza’s face, said she wasn’t human. Not fully, anyway. Judging by her reaction, that was something she was going to be wrestling with long after he said it. Why? Why did he have to come out and say that? He thought he had been ready for the repercussions of even hypothetically killing his sister. Hell, it was what he had been aiming for. But seeing Eliza like  _ that _ made that horrid part of him that had  _ feelings _ for her twist up and drive knives into his gut.  _ Why, why, why... _

“You know why,” he countered, voice dead. “To justify it. You know what I’m talking about. Why do you think you crawled to the vent leading up here specifically, huh Mordenna? You wanted a good reason. Can’t go  _ throwing yourself off of tall buildings _ without some justification to it. You’ve proven you’re a walking thornbush when you get in a bad mood, and Eliza knows it now. Do you honestly think you  _ could _ carve some life for yourself out in the woods were Eliza to throw you out?  _ Pathetic. _ ”

He slammed the side of the vent in a short fit of frustration, but it died quickly. He knew the exact kind of mood he was in. It had a finality to it—right now, everything he said was just bluster up until he did the act. It was a weak performance on his part to vaguely entertain the fact that he might talk himself out of this.

He knew he wouldn’t. He never did.

Mordenna’s eyes locked onto the built-in rungs that led up to the exit hatch, right to the top of the ship. They were landed right now. He was sure they wouldn’t mind one more body to clean up—god knows they did it all the time.  _ You’re leaving a body for  _ **_Eliza_ ** _ to clean up, _ his mind spoke back.  _ Do you really want to do that to her? _

“If she’s really as observant as she’s proven herself to be,” he softly replied, “then she knows I’m a suicidal loser by now. Hell, I won’t do what she said I was doing and underestimate her. Maybe she was ready to clear out my dead body when she signed up for this. Maybe.”

_ “You don’t have to do this.” _

The response came across his mind so fast he was almost surprised. He sighed.

“‘If you care so much,  _ stop me. _ ’”

No response. No messenger on high. Nobody stopping him. Mordenna leaned forward and gripped the rungs, pulling himself up.

One undone hatch later and he was on the top deck of the Avenger, up in the open air. Wind whipped around him at this height, and the air bit at his exposed fingers and face. Still not enough to stop him. Like a dead man walking, he slowly and painfully made his way to the edge of the ship, feet stopping and hanging over the side a bit. Wouldn’t take but a powerful wind to knock him over now.

His eyes stared at the ground below, far enough to be fatal for even a Chosen.  _ Especially _ for him and his brittle nature. “That just makes it better, doesn’t it?” He spoke to the wind. “No chance of survival, no chance of having to awkwardly explain yourself in the Infirmary. Just you, a long walk, and a short cliff. You’ve always wanted this. A  _ final death. _ So why are you hesitating? Just. Lean.  _ Forward. _ ”

But he didn’t. He continued to watch the swaying grass on the ground, fingers twitching occasionally out of nerves. He knew why. It was his  _ final _ death. Every one before then had been  _ nothing. _ A bit of wasted time, and that was is. This was the one that would truly end him. He’d get there eventually, he believed. Might as well take a moment to listen to the breeze, the whispering grass below, the frenzied thudding of footsteps behind him.

_ Wait. _

There... There was someone  _ up here. _ Running towards him. To push him over? No? He didn’t know. He had to see. Mordenna turned—

—and one of his feet didn’t quite connect to the Avenger.

He lurched backwards. Before the rapidly-ascending metal of the ship overtook his vision, he thought he saw a flash of dark brown.

Mordenna got another as Eliza dove over the edge of the ship and quickly caught up with him mid-air.

Her arms wrapped around his chest as the two of them tumbled in open air, sailing towards the ground fast.  _ Why did she do that? _ Now there were going to be  _ two _ dead people on the ground shortly, one vastly more important than the other. Eliza... had either guessed or been  _ directed _ , and made her way to the roof. Judging by what she just did, she had wanted to probably pull him back, but this is where they both where. Sailing to certain death.

He was going to die.  _ Eliza _ was going to die. Eliza didn’t freeze up at the edge. She... jumped  _ after _ him. The wind pulled his hood off his head and he looked to Eliza, glued to his chest. No. He... he could give her a fighting chance. He might be able to save her, at least.

Mordenna’s own arms wrapped around her and he righted himself in his flight, making it so that  _ he _ was the one with his back facing the ground. With the cushion of his body, she might yet live. Arms and a few other bones broken, but her chances were now far better.

Was this what he was going to do? Die in an unintentionally-successful suicide attempt while ensuring the safety of the Commander? It was his fault she was in this situation to begin with. If he’d just stayed, if he’d apologized, if he had sat it out...

Too late now. He saw the lower half of the Avenger pass him by and screwed his eyes shut, waiting for the sudden stop at the bottom.

To his credit, it came.  _ Softly. _ Even with a little bounce.

Was this death? Would he open his eyes to see his own body with the possibly-dead Commander on top of him? There was only two possibilities—either he was dead and the afterlife was far weirder than he took it (or he was in Limbo)... or he was alive.

His first clue was when he realized he was still holding his breath. Mordenna gave a shuddering exhale. Ok, maybe alive? Maybe this was an afterlife where he was still aware of all of his necessary bodily functions. He needed more answers.

His second clue was when he opened his eyes and his vision was tinted light blue.

The Hunter was staring right up at the sky, the dark metal of the Avenger now a turquoise. He blinked. No change. His head rolled to the side. Grass for as far as his eyes could see, frozen dew clinging to the individual blades. Nearby, a spider was repairing its web, preparing to start anew in the hazy, overcast light. All through a filter of sapphire. He looked to his chest.

There was Eliza, hair floating like she was underwater, eyes tightly close as sweat beaded on her forehead. Where her form stopped, even more of the light blue coalesced, pulsing over her form. They both were on the ground, no worse for wear.

Eliza... Eliza had put a Stasis around them  _ both. _ It explained why he wasn’t catching his breath, at least, and a hand flew to his throat. That was about when the Stasis wore off and he felt the grass for real against his coat and armor, the cold ground sending a reality-affirming shock into his spine. Perhaps what further grounded him into reality was the warmth of Eliza, on and around him.

He propped himself up on an arm, dumbly staring down at Eliza. Almost-invisible, light-blue, psionic wisps were floating off of her, and Mordenna now saw more than ever the signature that clung to her for dear life.  _ Psionics. _ Eliza had psionics, and had saved them both. Did she know about them? Had she leapt over, intending to save him with them?

It didn’t matter, now. Eliza took in a gasp of air and breathed heavily for a bit, catching her breath. Once she did, she blinked a few times and angled her head upwards. She locked eyes with Mordenna... and her own started to glisten. “Are...” she began, “are y-you alright...?”

Only Eliza. Only Eliza would jump after him after he had  _ tripped _ over the edge of the Avenger, tumble with him, and then save his life... and then try to ask if  _ he  _ was ok. Only her.  _ She saved your life, twice now. Look at her. She’s crying for you. Answer her. _ He swallowed. No dry wit came to mind. His fingers began to shake. “... no. No, Eliza. I’m not ok. I-I...” No. Not like this. He forced down his emotions, but they swelled beyond his fingers. “ _ I wanted to die. _ ”

That response just brought tears to Eliza’s face, and she climbed up on him, now hugging him more properly. “I-I understand now. I’m—I’m s-sorry. I’m so sorry. I should h-have known.”

He didn’t know how to respond to that. He couldn’t. Even if she  _ should _ have know, was it really on her to tail him everywhere on a suicide watch? He certainly wouldn’t have wanted it. “Why,” he started, softly, “why bother? Why jump after me?”

“ _ Because you’re worth it, _ ” she choked out, squeezing him. “B-because that isn’t h-how—how it should end for you.  _ Please, _ Mordenna. I-I can’t let it end like that.”

She didn’t want him dying like that. Eliza had been willing to put her own life at risk just to save his. He further stared at her, the realization that she was hugging him sinking in properly. How many years had it been without contact like this? Longer than he could clearly remember, no doubt. Slowly, he slumped to the ground, mindful of Eliza’s arms... then wound his around her, returning the gesture. “You... you really care.”

“O-of course I do.”

He was silent a moment longer. Then, he closed his eyes. His face felt awfully hot. “I’m sorry. You don’t deserve someone like me.”

“Maybe...” She hiccuped, taking in a gasp and sounding like she was trying to get control of her voice. “But... but I chose this. I signed up for this. W-with all that entails. I don’t want to give up on you, Mordenna. Please, give me the chance to help.”

“And if I hurt you?”

“I hurt. It’s proof I’m alive. It’s... it’s not like it wouldn’t happen eventually.” She sniffed. “Best to get the healing done now...”

Eliza... thought so similarly to him, yet so differently at the same time. Whereas he saw the hurt as inevitable and thus he should eliminate the future hurt, Eliza also saw it as inevitable... and resolved to speed along the recovery for it. How could he cope with someone who would stick around after he’d done things that shoved everyone else away?  _ You know the answer to that. Stick around, yourself. _

He opened his eyes again, looking at Eliza. His chest still ached, but with her hugging him... it wasn’t so bad. It seemed to free his chest, almost. Maybe... maybe he could stick around for this. If not for anyone else, if not to kill the Elders, if not to off Odin? Then for what Eliza could do for him. His thumb idly stroked against her back. “—Thank you. Didn’t have to go sailing over the Avenger for me, but... you did. I’m pretty sure it’s obvious, but that—that means a lot to me.” He took in a deep breath, then sighed it out. Now or never. “I’m sorry for what I said to you. I just wanted to say whatever would cut to make you realize I’m not worth it. Even if you’re not fully human... you’re human where it counts.”

Eliza shook her head, bringing it up from his chest. Tear tracks ran down her face, but she seemed to be over the worst of it. “It’s ok. I understand now. It hurt, yes, but I want you to be around so we can help each other through it. I don’t want you gone because you said that to me, or antagonized Fal-Mai. When I said I would help you and talk with you, I meant it.” She gave him another squeeze. “Even... if it’s the heavier stuff, like this. I want to prevent this. I want to stop you from ever being up there—or at the least, give you the tools and thought processes to talk yourself down.”

Mordenna regarded her a moment longer before nodding. “I... I owe you that much, at least. Just... sorry. And thanks. Can’t say either of those enough.”

The Commander nodded right back. The two shared a moment of silence, the underlying hush of the grass whipping against itself the only noise that came between them.

Soon, however, Mordenna was compelled to break it—and he was feeling good enough that his humor was returning. “Now. I’m off the edge, at least. We’re both safe. Should we skiddaddle soon so someone doesn’t take our positions out of context?”

That was enough to earn a tired laugh out of Eliza, and his heart lifted at the sound. “That might be wise. I...” She sobered back up quick. “I want to do some more talking. You, me, my Quarters?”

“Yes ma’am,” he readily agreed. The two untangled from each other and Eliza was the first to start walking, though making sure Mordenna was following behind her before she really started making her way to the open landing gear of the Avenger.

It was a fresh start, in a way. Maybe he could do things better this time around.

 


	20. Forgiveness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eliza and Mordenna talk about what’s happened, then Fal-Mai is confronted with new ideas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: The beginning of this chapter deals with themes of abuse and the elements of suicide from last chapter. It is only talked about, not shown explicitly.

Out of all the things he had done in his life, Mordenna considered what just happened to be pretty  _ up there. _

What was the scale, though? Absurdness? Yeah, it was pretty astounding for Eliza to just pull off a dual Stasis like that, but Mordenna understood. Under stress, psions could pull off some very interesting tricks, even if they weren’t entirely aware of their Gift. So, how about regretfulness? Maybe, but then again... it had earned him the first hug he could remember in a long time.  _ One you could’ve gotten at any time. Remember Eliza’s offer? _ Yeah, but. That would imply straight up  _ asking _ and Mordenna can’t do that.

Tenderness. Mordenna settled on a scale of tenderness on the back of that. Which... was a scale mostly Eliza occupied.  _ Damn. _ Maybe there was a bit of bias, there. It was looking like he was in for more entries, too, if this talk with Eliza was going to pan out well.

At the moment, he was just... numbly tracking along behind her. A lot better than he had been, just thirty minutes or so earlier, but he was avoiding eye contact with anyone they passed. Hopefully he didn’t have any grass stains on his back. The silence of the walk was still getting at him, and when they entered a relatively desolate hallway, he decided to spring a question that had been eating at him. “... Liz? How did you know I was up there?”

“Commander’s intuition,” was what she first fired back with, and Mordenna could sense the cop out in it. In a few moments, though, she sighed gently and responded. “Wiki. I... had her tail you. I’d seen your expression after you said  _ that _ to me and could only wonder what you were going to do, considering questions you had asked me in the past.”

Of course. Leave it to the dimension-hopping spark to track a Hunter—and the Commander of XCOM to send her after him. He rubbed the back of his neck. If they hadn’t picked up Wiki in the field... Mordenna tried not to think about it, and moved on. “—Can’t imagine psionics on such short notice is doing favors for you.”

It was then that Mordenna actually picked up on the stiffness of Eliza’s neck and how she carried herself, like she was tensed. “Yeah. Dealing with a headache now. But I’ve had worse. The banger I had coming out of that twenty year sleep was one for a lifetime.”

“The Elders were never ones for friendly user design, huh?”

“Could say that again—the amount of times I’ve heard Lily bring that up...”

At that, Mordenna winced. He’d nearly forgotten he’d slung that barbed remark Eliza’s way with Lily right next to her. Or how he’d deceived Lily just to torment his sister.  _ Gotta start watching what you say, Mordenna. Sensitivity 101. _ Hopefully Eliza might be able to help him along there.

Eventually, they made it back to her quarters. Eliza stepped in and took her usual spot at the couch. Though Mordenna knew the unspoken implication was to sit at his usual spot across from her... something in his heart guided him to walk past “his” couch and sit beside her. Eliza looked mildly surprised at the development, but a smile was quick to work its way onto her face. It didn’t last long—as she looked at him, her expression dropped. “Mordenna. Do you really feel like you have to prove you’re not worth it to me?”

Even despite what had happened, there was a part of Mordenna that was debating answering. Opening up about that and giving her the real reason would involve talking about  _ Odin, _ and about what Odin had done outside of just lashing him.  _ But, _ Mordenna reminded himself,  _ Eliza said she signed up for everything. Plus, she saved your life—probably twice now, considering you didn’t have much of a life with the Elders. Be forward with her you goddamn hooligan. _

After a bit of silence, Mordenna broke eye contact. “That’s... a rabbit hole, Eliza. One I’m about to get into, don’t worry, I’m just warning you about what you’re in for.”

Eliza reached out and put a hand on his shoulder, which made him feel a bit better. “If you tell me, it helps me to help  _ you. _ Even if it’s a rabbit hole, I mean it when I said I signed up for everything.”

Mordenna nodded. “Right...” How to start this. His fingers nervously smoothed across the material of his pants. “—All starts when I got nabbed, really. I don’t even remember much of what Odin—the Elder responsible for me—did to me... just what I’ve got to deal with now. Sleeplessness. Occasional overstimulation. That’s not even going into my various personality defects. Bastard erased my memory, too. As much as he could of my former life, anyway.” Mordenna blew some air out of his nose. “Only that I was from the Reapers, a bit of how they work, and a few details about the more  _ prominent _ members.”

“Explains your familiarity with them,” Eliza replied softly.

Mordenna squinted, focusing on nothing in particular as he moved on. “I’m sure you know this, but the Elders were never cut out to be parents. Odin treated me like I was a  _ thing. _ Good for him when it was early on and I was obeying. Not so good for me when I cottoned on to the fact that my whole situation was fucked.” A memory surfaced and he balled his fists. “Y’never forget your first lashing, Eliza. Or how much regret comes after. They just... kept  _ happening. _ Eventually... I just came to terms with the fact that I’d always be a disappointment. That I wasn’t worth shit but the processing power my brain offered and the pull of a trigger.”

“To him.”

Mordenna blinked, then took in a steady breath. “Yeah. To him.” He got the implication that Eliza was throwing at him. He felt her squeeze his shoulder and his face softened. “But I just got so  _ used _ to it, Eliza. I mean, fuck Odin. When I get to him, I’ve got a case of bullets with his name on them. But...” If someone like Odin, the one he’d inadvertently imprinted on during those first few years, was insisting he was nothing? When he couldn’t find any other support around him for  _ fifteen years? _ “... it just, made me think, Liz. What was the  _ point. _ I mean, eventually ‘spite’ became my answer, but you’ve seen it’s a piss-poor motivation when my thinking just dips.”

The Commander nodded, and she leaned more towards him. “I’m sure you know this, Mordenna, but regularity does not constitute acceptability. Just because you became used to it doesn’t mean it’s what’s normal.”

“I know that,” he tiredly replied, “I’ve never thought for a second I ever deserved those lashings.”

“But other punishment was seen as acceptable?”

Mordenna shrugged. “There was no in-between. Either it was getting told off—something Odin did less and less as it was clear I didn’t give a shit—or it was the belt.”

He watched Eliza’s eyes soften. “Then why seek out punishment here?”

The Hunter was quiet for a moment. He closed his eyes, his response coming gently. “Because... because I was convinced I was going to fuck up the one good thing that had happened to me, and you were going to throw me out when it happened. I thought ‘why not get it done with sooner. Why not justify dying.’ But I...” He squeezed his eyes further shut. “I  _ don’t _ want to lose this. I  _ don’t _ but I fuckin’ resigned to the fact that it was inevitable. I knew I was going to hurt you. And that always brought out the belt before.” Only when he realized how much it hurt  _ him _ to watch Eliza react like that was when his thought process was shaken.

“Mordenna...” Eliza seemed to be considering her words. “—do you want a hug before I continue?”

Well. To hear her just  _ ask _ like that was... amusingly simple. He got the reason for it—he knew he reacted kinda weirdly to the first sign of physical contact, and it wasn’t like she could’ve  _ asked _ about the last hug. Mordenna drummed his fingers on his thigh before nodding.

Just like that, he felt the couch shift as Eliza moved closer, felt the pressure and warmth around him as she brought in her arms, felt that pleasant burning in his chest. Before he knew it, his hands were awkwardly feeling for her, and he was returning the embrace. Eliza continued. “Like I told you on the ground—hurt happens. People will say things they don’t mean because they’re angry. Preferably we try to avoid it, but sometimes you’ll say something you don’t even know will hurt someone else. It happens—and removing yourself permanently isn’t a way to help prevent future hurt. It’s just going to make that person ache whenever they think about what they could have done. The best solution is to stay and work out that pain.”

The best solution being to stay? Earlier he would have laughed.  _ Why stay and help twist the knife in. _ Then again, if Mordenna had died and gone to hell... his circle was probably going to be agonizing over the fact that he called Eliza the  _ Chosen Siren _ as his last words to her for all eternity. He could get what Eliza was saying. He was... starting to see how Eliza had rallied a resistance this long and this effectively. Probably helped twenty years before, too. He just... had to make sure it was absolutely clear. “So even if I say some nasty shit to you, because I’m frustrated or think I’m not worth it or what have you... you want me to stay. And talk it out.”

“Yes. Absolutely.” She took in a deep breath before she continued. “Because you deserve a second chance, Mordenna. And I’ve got an eye for people who are actually trying to turn themselves around, and you’re one of them. Whenever your bad mood strikes you, whenever you think that there’s no way you deserve a loving environment... come talk to me. I’ll set you straight. I may be busy sometimes, but I’ll always have the time for anyone who needs me. However long it takes, I’ll sit down with you and reassure you, and work with you, and do whatever I can to help you.”

Eliza was something. He relaxed and opened his eyes, looking down at Eliza. “Ok. I’m... I’m trusting you, Liz. I don’t want to lose what you gave me. I’ll try my best to work with you—and I mean it, this time. It’s just hard to get my brain to work with  _ me _ sometimes.”

“I understand. Fifteen years with the Elders... couldn’t have done the best for your psyche.”

Something occurred to him and it took a bit of wind out of his sails. “—You’ve got five years up on me, Liz.”

“And?” She looked up at him seriously. “The fact that either of us spent even a year with them is the tragedy. Just because I’ve suffered for longer doesn’t invalidate the suffering you went through. Don’t shove yourself to the side.” She patted his back. “I’m here  _ because _ I want to focus on you and help you as much as I can.”

Wasn’t that the truth. Mordenna leaned against Eliza, thinking a moment more. “... to answer your question straightforward-like, Eliza? Because, through a long history of physical and emotional fuckery, Odin made me think I wasn’t worth shit outside of him. If I wasn’t his son, who was I.” He sighed, then took in a calming breath. “I know now he was just saying that shit because he wanted to keep what control over me he could. But it  _ happened, _ Lizzie.”

“Yes. Yes it did. And it  _ sucks. _ ”

To hear such genuine sympathy out of Eliza like that... yeah. It was pretty cathartic. The situation he had been in was fucked up and Odin was a lying bastard. “It  _ fucking _ sucked, Eliza. Get your facts straight.”

The bit of humor wasn’t lost on Eliza, and she offered him a smile. “Alright. It fucking sucked. But you’re out of it now, and we can help you heal. You can vent, you can ask for advice, you can mess up and not have the hammer come down on you. I want you to know that. And maybe, just maybe, you can patch things up with your siblings.”

Mordenna raised his eyebrows at that. “Woah, Eliza, I know you’re a miracle worker but I think that might be beyond even  _ you. _ Maybe Jax and Fal-Mai can bury the hatchet, but they’ve both got firm reasons to hate my guts.”

“Firm reasons brought around by the Elders, mind you.”

His mouth pressed into a line. Truth be told... what would it even  _ be _ like, to have proper siblings in Fal-Mai and Jax? To have an older brother who wasn’t feuding with him? To have a younger sister he could actually navigate a conversation with?

Oh, yeah. Him and Fal-Mai’s little “conversation.” The line of his mouth tugged into an uncertain frown. “... I should  _ probably _ tell Fal-Mai I’m sorry, right? Is that a good first step?”

Eliza nodded. “A very good first step. Apologizing—whether she accepts it or not—does send a message if you mean it and want to take steps to make sure you avoid doing it again in the future. Do you feel up to doing that right now, or do you want to talk a bit more?”

He considered it as he re-adjusted his grip on Eliza. He’d gotten to why he was acting the way he did, and outside of just yelling about Odin for an hour and a half? He’d said what he wanted to say... but he didn’t exactly want to  _ stop _ hugging Eliza.  _ Great. Hello, desperate feelings. Thought maybe you’d crawl off and die eventually, yet here you are. Eliza probably won’t let us carry her there and probably won’t ever look at us like that. Just let it go. She cares, but not like that. _

Slowly, Mordenna withdrew his arms. “Yeah. Think I can stand getting punched in the face by my sister. And before you say she’s in cuffs; trust me. She’ll find a way.”

Eliza chuckled and put a hand on his chest. “Hey, I’ll be there to moderate.” With that, she also disengaged from him and got up. “—And, Mordenna? Thank you. For letting me talk with you. I care about you a lot, and I want to see you  _ live. _ Not just survive. I think you deserve it.”

Those feelings of his twisted in circles and made him smile involuntarily. “Appreciate it, Liz. I’d like to live it up a little, myself. Speaking of which, after we talk to Fals... you, me, and an amount of alcohol Bradford would disapprove of?”

The Commander straight up laughed, shaking her head. “Rain check? I’ve been trying to keep away from the hard stuff ever since I made Bradford stop drinking. Best on the both of us.”

Mordenna shrugged, getting up after her. “Fine by me—probably best Bradford doesn’t give himself stress-magnified cirrosis.”

“Is that  _ care for Bradford _ I hear?”

“Pfft, you wish, Lizzie.”

 

* * *

 

Fal-Mai would have never guessed she would be feeling regret over her brother.

She’d thought that the way she had retaliated was so cut and dry. He cut to her core, she aimed for his. He had clearly entered her cell in order to antagonize her and thus, he had gotten what he had wished for.

But that  _ link... _ Despair. Hopelessness. The feeling as if she would never do anything right.  _ Panic. _ Then the wisps of regret that quickly morphed into something more of her own. That cycle was recognizable to her by now. How she had known that Mordenna had leapt off a building once... well, morbid curiosity and pattern recognition. But, did she cause it this time? Was he alright? Was she  _ caring? _

It wasn’t that she didn’t care for Mordenna. He just frustrated her and it seemed as if he was set in his ways—something very much confirmed by his interaction with her and what she had heard outside of the bounds of her cell. It was hard to think that he would ever change if those were his actions. Fal-Mai had given up ever trying to change him herself; she merely resolved to become stronger for whenever he came to antagonize. Though, it was always hard to keep a stony face when she felt that despair set in...

The soft reverberation of footsteps outside of her cell didn’t escape her. They sounded somewhat familiar at this point—but Mordenna’s threat rang in her ears. Standing up, she cloaked and pressed herself against the wall.

Of course, when the figure beyond was none other than the Commander, she quickly dropped her cloak. Eliza looked... tired. Her hair was slightly out of place and her eyes looked a bit blotchy; outside of that, Eliza seemed the same as ever, carrying herself well. She looked to Fal-Mai and smiled. “Good to see you as always, Fal-Mai.”

Fal-Mai nodded. “A pleasure, Commander.” Even still, Mordenna’s words rang in the back of her mind.  _ Chosen Siren. _ She blinked a few times and a concern came to her. “... my brother did not harm you extensively, did he?”

Eliza shook her head, standing up straighter. “Not at all. We talked things out, and you’d be surprised how effective that is if you do it right.”

“With my brother?” Fal-Mai responded incredulously. “I have tried, Eliza. He only seeks his own entertainment and amusement. Finding himself in trouble is but a game.”

Eliza’s face did set a bit at that. “You’ve... got the wrong end of the stick there, Fal-Mai. If finding himself in trouble earned that psionic punishment, do you think he intended it?”

Suppressing a shudder at the memory, Fal-Mai’s eyes flickered downwards. Admittedly, the Elders’ form of punishment had not been...  _ pleasant. _ Ever since she had been at the brute end of it, she had wondered just why Mordenna acted as he did if that was what awaited him. Upon further meditation, Fal-Mai wondered if it was the  _ Elders _ who were looking for the excuse, not Mordenna. “... and you were able to talk to him?”

Eliza’s face softened at Fal-Mai backing down. “Yes. Long story short, Fal-Mai, Mordenna wants to do better by everyone. And he wants to start by apologizing to you.”

For all of her supernatural hearing, Fal-Mai had to take a few seconds to make sure she wasn’t mishearing Eliza. Mordenna wanted to  _ apologize? _ What reality was this, where the Elders had turned and the Chosen Hunter wanted to make amends? Some part of her wondered if it was something Eliza had put him up to. “You’re... serious.”

“Absolutely.”

“He wants to say  _ sorry. _ And mean it.”

“That’s the case, yes. I’m going to be in the room while he does it so the two of you won’t have to worry about being alone with the other.”

Reasonable, but was Eliza ready to play mediator between two Chosen, should it escalate to that? Then again, Fal-Mai... did hold respect for Eliza, and part of that respect was not underestimating her. Her eyes looked to the closed door, and she took in a breath. There was a part of her that spoke to reject Eliza. Surely she would respect her decision, but... the knowledge that  _ she _ may have been the catalyst for Mordenna’s most recent episode? Though he had wronged her, guilt festered in her gut. “As long as you remain here...”

The Commander nodded, tapping the pad on the inside of the cell. From there, she leaned outside of the door and motioned for someone to step in—it being made clear shortly that it was Mordenna she was motioning to. Admittedly, Fal-Mai would never have expected  _ awkwardness _ to be something she ever saw out of the Hunter. Maybe this wasn’t some twisted dream.

Still, neither of them moved to engage. Mordenna was looking everywhere but at her, drumming his fingers on his thigh. She was staring him down, wondering if she should make the first move.

Thankfully, Eliza cut through it. “Mordenna. I hate to interrupt, but you did come here to say something.”

“Riiiiight,” he replied. Eliza seemed to ease him up a little—but did Fal-Mai’s ears deceive her, or did his heart race just a little? Mordenna, being nervous? This day was full of firsts and oddities. “Alright. Yeah.” He clapped his hands together, rubbing them and finally managing to look at some spot just above Fal-Mai’s head. “Sis? I know you probably won’t accept hearing this out of me, but? Me, coming into your cell unannounced and saying what I did to you... not cool. I’m....  _ sorry. _ ”

Fal-Mai regarded him calmly for a second, before her gaze slid over to Eliza. “And how is the weather outside, Commander?” She saw Mordenna’s face twist a bit in her peripheral vision before she continued. “Is blood raining from the sky, or however it went in old world stories? This... is an interesting day.”

She looked back to Mordenna, and he was back to only mild nervousness. He must’ve not been expecting humor out of herself... and perhaps he was justified in that department. “Nah. We were just out there earlier, sis. Maybe a bit cold, but nothing to write home about.”

_ We? _ Did Eliza have some hand in whatever had happened to Mordenna? It was anyone’s guess at this rate. Still, Fal-Mai knew she would have to deign him with some sort of response for this to go over well. “—Your attempts at  _ civility _ are not lost on me, Mordenna. You will have to excuse the fact that I am incredulous at you apologizing and meaning it, and not as one of your flippant remarks.” She closed her eyes. “... I do not excuse what you have said, no matter your mood. You attacked me from a personal place, as was your intention at the time.”

Judging by the gentle shifting of Eliza’s hair, she was looking at Mordenna. Fal-Mai wondered if he had indulged just what he had said to her... no matter. She could always tell Eliza herself later. The Assassin continued. “Nevertheless... if you are being truthful, and if Eliza vouches for your attempts at reform...” She opened her eyes, looking to him. “I accept your apology. I do not forgive you, do not mistake this. But I will acknowledge and receive your ‘sorry.’ But.” Her gaze hardened. “This comes with the stipulation that you will do everything in your power to prevent it from happening again.”

Mordenna made some gesture over his chest that ended up with him holding up three fingers together. “Scout’s honor, Fals. But, more seriously? Yeah. I’ll try.” That done, he looked to Eliza. “Now, I know my sis, and she probably doesn’t want me in an enclosed space with her for long, even if you’re here to make sure we don’t kill each other. Probably in good interest if I bounce now.”

Eliza, nodded, looking to the Assassin. “Do you have anything else to say?”

Fal-Mai shook her head. “He is my brother, and does know me some measure of well. If he is done apologizing, I would prefer to talk to him sometime else, in a much more open space.”

“Crackerjack!” Mordenna said some strange things. Eliza opened the door for him as he made to leave. “Fal-Mai? See you sometime else, preferably when we’re not going for each other’s throats.” After that, he ducked out of the door and moved out of sight.

That left her and Eliza. The Commander was quick to break the silence between the two of them. “Fal-Mai? How are you otherwise?”

Fal-Mai felt some tension go out of her shoulders as the door closed. “—I did not think my brother would ever apologize to me and mean it, Commander. Either of them, for that manner.” The animosity she held towards Jax was... lesser, but still there. “I am hopeful, but doubtful all at the same time. He has been abrasive for as long as I have existed, and many years before that. If he is able to turn himself around after fifteen years... then, suffice to say, I will work with him.”

Eliza’s smile seemed to set off that burning in Fal-Mai’s heart, and she cherished it. She did not know what the feeling was, but it was pleasant. “Thank you. For accepting his apology and expressing  _ some _ interest in working with him. I can usually get a good read on people, Fal-Mai, and Mordenna does want to work on himself. I won’t lie, it will be difficult, and certainly not an overnight thing. But, as I will support him... I’ll support you, too.”

More of this fire in her chest. Fal-Mai found herself with a sliver of a smile on her face. “I appreciate the gesture, Commander.” Still, Fal-Mai understood that Eliza was probably going to ask about something else, as well. “As for my joining... a day or so more. Mordenna has set me back a bit, but I believe I will come to my ultimate decision in a short time.” Fal-Mai was very heavily leaning towards joining XCOM, but there was something in the way, she felt. She needed to ruminate on what.

Nodding, Eliza’s thumb ran over the remote in her hand. “Understandable. That was all I had for you today—have anything to say before I leave?” When Fal-Mai shook her head, she opened the door. “Have a good night, Fal-Mai. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

With that, Eliza stepped out the door. Though, she didn’t get far after it closed behind her. Her footsteps stopped immediately as another pair approached her. Fal-Mai focused her hearing, catching on to the conversation.

“—was wondering if I could visit Assassin Neylor.” That... that was  _ Samhien. _ The Skirmisher she had captured... and the one who had started her on her line of questioning and thinking towards XCOM and Eliza. More importantly, he wanted to  _ visit _ her after what she had put him through?

“Well, I’d have to see if it was alright with her,” Eliza replied. “... is that tea?”

“Yes! I... have a vague hunch that Chosen do not require food, nor drink, but I would imagine something palatable to her tastes would brighten her a bit in her captivity.”

The alto of Eliza’s chuckle was nearly just a hum through the wall. “Sammy, you’re a real work of art. You do know she’s going to have to have her cuffs off to enjoy that though, right?”

There was a quick pause of silence, presumably Samhien nodding based on what he said next. “As I know. I trust the Assassin to not harm me in this kind of situation. Despite her known animosity towards Skirmishers, when presented the opportunity to cloak and flee you presented by not watching the door, she remained in her cell.”

“Good observation. Well, alright. I’ll still be outside of the door in case something happens, but I’ll check with Fal-Mai first.” After that, the door opened. Samhien was indeed behind the door, holding a tray with two mugs, filled with something hot judging by the steam. Eliza leaned in. “Hey, Fal-Mai? Sammy here wants to talk to you and share some tea. He’s going to uncuff you so you can drink it. Is this alright?”

Fal-Mai had been half-tempted to interrupt with “as I know” as Eliza was talking... but that would give away the fact that she could hear beyond her cell. The Assassin decided to keep that fact close to her chest. As for Samhien... she was not afraid of being alone with him, but he still unnerved her somewhat. Perhaps due to the way Helena had brought her into this world. Still, she nodded. “Very well.”

Sammy offered her a warm smile and stepped in, Eliza placing the remote on his tray as he did. When the door closed behind him, he balanced the tray on one hand and took the remote with the other. “It is good to see you again, Assassin Neylor. Though our circumstances are curiously reversed, I just want to chat and make you feel at home on the Avenger.”

Fal-Mai looked down at him benignly, trying to gauge just how truthful he was being. Surely that remote had other functions, too. Would he use those? “If I were any more cynical, I would accuse you of gloating.”

He shook his head. “Nothing of the sort, I assure you. In a way, I would also like to apologize. But, first.” Sammy felt out for a button on the remote and pressed it. Fal-Mai could feel her cuffs loosen to the point that they slid off of her wrists and clattered to the ground—same with her shackles. Just for a moment, the thought of springing on Sammy came to mind... but she hardly entertained it. She would not throw Eliza’s trust in her face. Instead, she rubbed her wrists, then slowly took one of the offered mugs and sat down as Samhien did.

She got caught up on something he said, a finger testing the hot ceramic of the mug. The scent that wafted up from it was... pleasant. She might have to try some when it cooled. “Apologize? I would believe I am the one who has committed wrongs in this room. What would you have to apologize for?”

Sammy took a gentle sip of his own mug before replying. “For antagonizing you while I was captured. What I said clearly caused you distress, yet I had pressed on anyways and ‘earned’ a dagger to my hand.” That made Fal-Mai’s eyes flicker to that hand. The wound was starting to scar up. Goodness knows how long he’d have that for...

Fal-Mai shook her head, taking her focus away from the wound she had dealt. “The facts you had faced me with were simple truths that I was still not keen to accept. Though it irritated me at the time, what you were saying needed to be heard.”

“I will still contest my delivery. I... could have been more calm about stating what I did.”

Lidding her eyes, Fal-Mai let the matter drop. Surely it was understandable for him to have said things the way he did thanks to her own actions. She suspected she would be arguing with him for a long time if she kept insisting he had no error. Indeed, a part of her reminded herself that she was arguing that a Skirmisher had done nothing wrong... but it was becoming increasingly apparent to her that her and the Skirmishers’ crimes were one in the same—they dared think for themselves. Though her being reeled at it, maybe she shared more with them than she thought.

Sammy sighed, tapping his mug. “With that in mind... I’d like to assist you now, Fal-Mai. More than me forcefully presenting you truths. I would like to come at things with a gentler hand.”

Fal-Mai still found herself rejecting what he was proposing. As much as she was sure he wanted to do good by her, she just... didn’t trust him. Half of it was still her ingrained hatred for him and his kind, the other half was that situation he’d like to help her with was very personal. She’d only trust someone like Eliza. Probably  _ just _ Eliza. Fal-Mai thought about giving him a half-hearted answer.  _ He can see through your lies. It would be best to tell him the truth. _

Fal-Mai straightened. “I will have to reject your offer, Samhien. Perhaps later, when things are not as... muddied, between us, I will give it some thought again.”

She expected some kind of resistance out of Samhien out of that, but he merely nodded. “Understood, Assassin Neylor. Do you at least have  _ someone _ to confide in?”

Hm. To tell him, or not... Fal-Mai took this chance to take a taste of her tea. Herbal. A little bit sweet. Could be sweeter, in her opinion, but it was welcome. Still hot, though. She’d take measured drinks, and the time to taste it gave her time to arrive at her answer. “Yes.” That would be all that she would offer him.

Sammy seemed... unsatisfied by the answer, but he did not press on it. She wasn’t lying, at least—she considered Eliza a potential confidant. “Ok. Friends, then?”

She blinked. “You. Would want to be friends with  _ me. _ ”

Sammy smiled warmly. “The reasons why not are outweighed by the reasons as to why. If you have someone to confide in, you should have someone you can relax and talk with normally, as well. Hobbies, philosophy, chit-chat, there is much to be shared without having to divulge feelings more personal to you. Friends are good to have, Fal-Mai.”

Friends. Eliza had said she would want her as a friend, if the Assassin allowed it. Fal-Mai had to consider the thought for a moment. She did not trust Samhien as a confidant... but perhaps she could give him the chance to be trusted as a friend. She took a measured drink of her tea before she replied. “I believe that could be done. I do not know much of what it’s like to be someone’s ‘friend,’ so you will have to bear that in mind.”

Chuckling, Sammy shook his head. “There is always time to learn, Fal-Mai, and you have so much time to do it with! I’m sure you’ll know how to be a great friend, given the chance. You just need the  _ chance _ to do so.”

Chances. Second chances, at that. Fal-Mai had already failed with the Elders. Something in her seethed about her lowering the bar for herself, but she reminded herself that the standards of Helena were realized as being too high to meet. A second chance did sound nice. “I suppose I should count myself lucky that you and Eliza are patient, then.” Eliza was more than patient, of course. Kind. Understanding. Thoughtful. Thinking about her made Fal-Mai’s chest roll in that pleasant way.

She looked to Samhien... and was taken aback by his  _ curious _ expression. Of course. He could still read her emotions, and Fal-Mai felt as if he was going to question just what she was feeling. Or maybe he knew what she was feeling and that it was bad in some way. Instantly, Fal-Mai felt herself get guarded, trying to shoo away the feeling. “—If one aspect of being friends is respecting the other, would you respect my want for you to leave at any time?”

Sammy seemed to catch what he did, and he had the decency to look flustered. “O-of course!”

She hadn’t thought that she would dismiss him so soon, but that seed of doubt had taken root in her stomach and seemed to battle with the feeling in her chest. Ultimately the doubt won out and she drank as much of her tea as she could manage to staunch it. “Then I would kindly ask you to leave now. I fear I am a ‘broken record,’” A phrase she remembered Mordenna using, “but I want to meditate in peace. If I decide to join XCOM, we may talk more of my own accord.” She sat her nearly-finished mug down on the tray. “... and thank you for the tea. It... could be sweeter, I think.”

Sammy nodded, putting his own mug down and setting the tray aside. “I’ll have to remember that. Now, um... I think they would want you to have your cuffs back on before I leave.”

Ah, right. Fal-Mai had almost gotten used to having her arms free. “Understandable. Allow me to stretch for a moment and I will put them back on myself.” Fal-Mai stood up and rolled her shoulders, flexing and bending a few joints that had become a bit stiff from the cuffs. Afterwards, she re-attached her shackles, then finagled the cuffs behind her back even as Sammy seemed to want to offer his help. She could do it on her own, and soon she was back to her bound state.

Sammy put the remote on the tray and picked the whole thing up. “Fal-Mai, it has been good chatting with you, and I am glad that you enjoyed the tea. Hopefully we may talk again soon.” With that, he balanced the tray to open the door, stepping out. Eliza’s arm came into view as she plucked the remote off of the plate and stepped in.

When the door closed behind her, she began to talk. “Everything go alright, Fal-Mai?”

Fal-Mai nodded, though her insides were busy twisting up. How fortunate that Samhein wasn’t there to reap what he had sown. “It seems you are not the only person who wishes to be my friend.”

That earned a giggle out of Eliza, a sound that just made the battle inside her worse. “Hey, that might speak to a larger trend. Only one way to find out, yeah?” Eliza looked to the pad in the room, then to Fal-Mai’s arms. “... y’know, since you swung being uncuffed with a Skirmisher in the room for as long as you did... I think I can give you access to something we wouldn’t have trusted Mordenna with.” Eliza then proceeded to tap through options on the datapad, editing quite a bit from the looks of it. When she was done, there seemed to be one less option on the screen.

“Not being able to trust the Hunter with something? How ever could you say that, Commander?”

Another laugh out of Eliza. “I think you’re picking up humor pretty fast, Fal-Mai. Keep up the good work.” She waved that line of thought off and gestured to Fal-Mai. “What I’m going to do is adjust your handcuffs to be in front of you. This is to let you interact with the pad on the wall over here. You... can’t do much with it for safety’s sake, but what you can do is hit a panic button... and hail for me. Just to make it easier for you to contact me when you  _ do  _ come to a decision.”

Eliza was placing more trust in her from the sounds of it. Perhaps it wasn’t unfounded, but she continued to fascinate. “So you are going to allow the Elders’ Assassin to be in a room with you, unbound, even for such a short amount of time?”

Eliza nodded. “You said it yourself. You’ve got too much honor to attack me like this. I’ve proven able to best you, even if it was by proxy and when you weren’t exactly giving your all. Would be kind of dirty to attack me now, yes?”

She had remembered Fal-Mai’s words. The Assassin looked to the side for a second. “It... would. I will not attack you, Eliza.”

“Alright. Just give me a second here.” Eliza pressed the same button on the remote, and Fal-Mai caught her cuffs before they could fall. After a heavy moment, where her chest suggested she do something her gut disagreed with, she handed Eliza the cuffs, pausing a moment to redo her own shackles. Holding out her hands, Eliza redid her bonds gently. Through the material of her gloves, Fal-Mai could feel the relative coolness of Eliza’s hands compared to her elevated body heat. “There we are. You be sure to contact me if you need anything, alright?”

“Understood, Eliza.”

Eliza nodded, turning to leave. “Have a good night...  _ again, _ Fal-Mai.”

“Have a pleasant evening, Commander.”


	21. Belongings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Assassin joins XCOM.

There were only so many times Fal-Mai could count to ten to stall.

Everytime she started counting again, she promised herself that once she hit ten, she’d contact the Commander. She was sure that, as she was counting, she would get up and hit that pad, hailing Eliza. Then she hit ten, her will wavered, and she started again. This time would be the one, Fal-Mai assured herself.

_ One. _ Fal-Mai knew what was holding her back now. She had taken the time to think over it, and she now knew why she was still hesitating to join XCOM. It was her Ascension Facility.

_ Two. _ It was simple, yes? It could be her first mission—join with XCOM, topple her facility, rid them of one of the last vestiges of her creation. Then she would be free. Then there would be no more monuments to what Helena had done.

_ Three. _ She knew her Stronghold would still stand. Perhaps that was another mission she could request—but a building as large as that... might take some more time. Later. It was not as emblematic of  _ her. _

_ Four. _ The less ADVENT had of her, the better. She had resolved herself. Eliza’s words, Helena’s actions, her own feelings; everything wrapped into a will to change, to lash out against what had been forced upon her.

_ Five. _ To strike against the Elders themselves would be the greatest blow of all. Perhaps there could have been things she could have done better. Fal-Mai had considered it for a long time, and came to the conclusion that her observation of their hypocrisy was right. Mordenna was right.

_ Six. _ Mordenna. Yes, he had apologized. Yes, Eliza had vouched for his want to change. Yes, there was a part of Fal-Mai that wanted to see him become far less abrasive. But, if she were to cooperate with XCOM, he would be there.

_ Seven. _ What of her downtime, as well? Trying to find a life on a ship where one member hadn’t hesitated to kill her in the past, a host of soldiers who would probably still see her as an enemy, and a singular woman who stood for her.

_ Eight. _ Eliza could not be everywhere, and Eliza could not tend to Fal-Mai all the time. Not that the Assassin would wish for that—but there would be times she would want to talk and Eliza would be unavailable. What then? Samhien might be a wise ear, but...

_ Nine. _ What would she do, if presented with Helena herself? She knew of the Avatars. Even if the Elders were being set back in their goals, what if Helena appeared on the field astride one? Would Fal-Mai be able to kill her? Could Fal-Mai raise a blade against her, essentially her own mother?

Fal-Mai stalled. Her mind wouldn’t shift to ten. To try again, and fail? To suffer the consequences?  _ You are not dealing with the Elders anymore. Eliza’s standards are not theirs. _ Yes, but even so... Fal-Mai was certain she would fail eventually, and then how would Eliza see her? But... Mordenna seemed to have “failed,” if him barging into her cell was any indication. He seemed more skittish of his own accord when he was brought back—plus, he  _ apologized. _ She was sure he would rather die than do that under the Elders.

Maybe things could be different. She still didn’t want to fail... but maybe she didn’t have to. Eliza’s standards were not theirs... hopefully. She could only wonder and guess, but there was one way to find out. It wasn’t like she was going to be doing anything else if she refused the offer.

Fal-Mai took in a deep breath. “Ten.” She then stood up, walked over to the pad and crouched down to access it. There were some options in a list: open door, hail Commander, and SOS. Fal-Mai was pretty sure that opening the door would require a fingerprint or some other form of ID in order to make it work, so she dashed trying it. With a moment’s hesitation, she reached up and pressed the button to contact Eliza. The screen shifted to a spinning symbol, then to “Commander Contacted.” All she could do was wait, now.

So back she went, standing up and going to lean against the opposite wall. It was... a few minutes, by her own probably inaccurate guessing, but she heard Eliza’s footsteps outside of the door. Fal-Mai kept her cloak down as the door slid open. Eliza smiled at her. “Sorry for the wait. What’s going on, Fal-Mai?”

Fal-Mai found herself carefully considering her words, but eventually she pieced together just what she wanted to say. “Commander. I have come to my decision. I believe my best place in this life, in this moment... would be to join up with your forces. But,” she was quick to say, before Eliza could get anything in edgewise, “I do not come without conditions. I have one or two  _ stipulations _ that I must address before you can truly consider me to be allied with you.”

Eliza looked pretty pleased, even if Fal-Mai had stated that she had some conditions. “Well, let me hear them so I can decide.”

Fal-Mai nodded, mostly to herself. “My main wish is that we are to embark on a mission as soon as is reasonable, Commander. There exists a facility that was used to create me—my Ascension Facility, if I recall correctly. I want my first mission to be to take it out. Then, after that is done... you may consider me ‘part of the team.’”

Eliza mulled that over a bit, but ended up nodding in turn. “Honestly? That sounds like a plan. I can’t say we’ll be able to go  _ immediately, _ but within a few day’s time we can start making the trip. Still doing some scanning in the area, but after that? Absolutely.”

There it was. Eliza had agreed to her plan. Fal-Mai straightened. “Then do we have a deal?”

“Just a second,” Eliza held up a hand, “I have some things I want to clear with you, too. Standard procedure.” She paused. “As... standard as ‘second time, ever” gets.” The Commander cleared her throat. “Firstly, and it probably goes without saying, just try to be on your best behavior. You don’t have to be buddies with everyone, of course, but just don’t be abrasive or hostile.”

“You will find me far more agreeable than my brothers in that regard,” Fal-Mai replied, “though I am glad you do not expect me to be  _ friends _ with everyone.”

“Friends are good, but I understand if you’re not keen to jump into the idea at the deep end.”

Gradually, Fal-Mai would approach the idea. Eliza and Samhien would be it for now. “Your other terms, Commander?”

“Right. Secondly, once I have Jax, I’ll be swinging him to our side the best I can—but I figure you’ve already gathered that.”

Fal-Mai lidded her eyes. “You have a daunting prospect ahead of you, Eliza. Jax idolizes and deifies the Elders far more than Mordenna and I ever did. I respected them; he worships them.”

Eliza’s smile fell in favor of a bit more seriousness. “I’ll do as I always do, Fal-Mai—I’ll try. Not much in this life has been easy for me, and few worthwhile things are. If it’s hard, I’ll get through it. But he needs to be given the chance, just as you two have.”

Fal-Mai lapsed into silence at that. Truth be told, she was unsure if Eliza would succeed there. Capturing Jax? She would say Eliza had a sporting chance, at the very least. Convincing him to go against his beliefs in the Elders? Easier said than done, went the phrase, and Fal-Mai agreed with it. Having nothing more to say to it, she moved on. “Anything else?”

“Lastly... if you need someone to talk to, someone to confide in, or just a shoulder to cry on... I’m here.” She tapped an area just behind her ear. “You’ll be given a communicator that can access a general channel on the Avenger, and I’m going to ask Lily what she can do regarding a direct link to my own comms. Like I’ve said before—I don’t want you to fear for questions. I also don’t want for you to fear for speaking your mind.”

Fal-Mai could hear shadows of her own words in what Eliza said, but something occurred to her. She considered not asking, but judging on what Eliza just said... “What of your soldiers, Eliza? Who may they turn to?”

Eliza smiled gently. “The roundabout concern is noted. But, as for that? Leo styles himself a therapist of sorts, though I think many agree he’s outclassed by Samhien. I’m extending what I am to you because I’ve got a touch more understanding about what’s going on... and you may not necessarily trust either of them enough to relate your worries.” 

With that question handled, Fal-Mai returned to what Eliza offered. A “shoulder to cry on?” Fal-Mai did not fancy herself crying anytime soon, but she supposed it was another metaphor. Eliza  _ was _ about the only person she trusted enough to get into what had happened to her, even if that trust wasn’t much in her eyes. She would remember that for the future. The Assassin looked into Eliza’s eyes, searching for something. Somehow, the act made her chest burn... “Those are reasonable terms, Commander. I am at an agreement if you are.”

“As am I. Let’s get you out of those, then!” With that, Eliza pressed that familiar button on the remote, and Fal-Mai’s bonds fell away. Stepping out of her shackles, she rolled her shoulders. The freedom of movement was much appreciated. “Your weapons are down in the Workshop. I think I recall Lily having a question or two about your blade.”

“I would be willing to answer,” Fal-Mai replied, “depending on the question.” Fal-Mai looked towards the door... but it pretty quickly occurred to her that she would have no idea where she was going. Yes, she had been aware for the whole time they had been bringing her in, but it had slipped her mind to  _ memorize _ the route they took her down. “... would you guide me there?”

“Of course!” Eliza tapped the “open door” button and turned around as it confirmed something. “Right this way. Leave the cuffs, I’ll have an engineer come back for them later.” Eliza walked out the door, and Fal-Mai followed, ducking under it.

As they left, Fal-Mai took the opportunity to look back. The last time she had been through here, the third cell in the line looked like it still needed some work... but now it appeared completely finished. The whole room did, as a matter of fact, and there seemed to be fine outlines in the ceiling, like plates would slide back and reveal some backup measure. Fal-Mai hoped that they wouldn’t need them against her brother.

Eliza set the remote down in a drawer on a table at the far end of the room, and made to walk outside. Something seemed to occur to her though, as she turned back to talk as she walked. “Ah, yeah. Would you be partial to having your own space? Mordenna told me he can’t sleep, but I’m unsure if that also extended to you. We’ve got a few rooms that are largely storage, but off enough on the power grid that we can’t use them for anything major. Could clear one out, if you liked—the barracks are a little full, as is.”

Fal-Mai considered the proposition for a moment. “I have no  _ need _ for sleep, Commander, and I am unsure if I could if I wanted to.” Fal-Mai had been tired enough to  _ feel _ like she could sleep before, but had never tried. Maybe there had been a time or two before in meditation... “—But I will not turn down such an offer.”

“Grand! We’ll see what we can do about that in the coming week or so.” She turned back to the path ahead, keeping a good stride. Even so, Fal-Mai found herself having to slow down if she wanted to stay behind the Commander. Couldn’t be helped, she supposed. 

There was a bit or so of silence, but Eliza was quick to fill it. “So, this Ascension Facility. Is there any part of it that we should be warned of that you know of?”

Fal-Mai shook her head. “It has been over a year since I was there. Whatever details were there at the time are likely to have been changed.”

She could hear Eliza mutter “a  _ year _ ” under her breath with consideration. “—You didn’t appear until last year, if I recall correctly. Do you remember anything of your former life?”

Fal-Mai blinked. The question seemed outlandish to her... until she remembered that the Elders had chose humans for her brothers. She was made by design. Eliza seemed to be operating under the assumption that the process was the same for her as it was the same for her brothers. “Unless this is a metaphysical discussion, Commander, I have no past life to speak of. I was made as you see me now.”

That spurred Eliza into a silent pause. “What you’re telling me is that you’re a year old.”

“As it is, yes.”

Eliza shook her head. “I thought the Skirmishers were bad enough, running around as seven year olds in Samhien’s case... Fully formed and fully matured, huh? Like a modern day Athena.”

Athena. That name seemed familiar. Perhaps Jax had spoken of it in passing, or one of his Priests was named it. He seemed to have a curious fascination with all things mythological. Still, her curiosity ate at her. “Athena...?”

“Ah, right, you probably wouldn’t know. Humans used to, long ago—and probably still now in some places—believe in a lot of gods. One particular group, the Greeks, believed in a lot of them. Athena was a goddess representing wisdom, military strategy, justice... a lot of things. What I was referring to was that she was ‘born’ fully formed from her father’s head. He was fine afterwards, of course. That’s basically the short of it.”

Fal-Mai blinked. “Humans... come up with some very interesting concepts.”

“Hey, allegedly a whole city got named after her because she granted it an olive tree. We make some pretty interesting stories.” Eliza was quiet for a second. “Made, anyhow. Wonder what will come about when we make it out of this.”

“You say that as if you winning the war is a certainty.”

Eliza looked back and flashed Fal-Mai a smile. “If  _ I _ don’t believe it, who will?”

The Commander was very certain of herself, that was true. It almost inspired optimism in Fal-Mai as well—she could easily see why humans would want to rally behind her. Fal-Mai inclined her head to her. “Well spoken, Commander.”

Eliza chuckled, turning back ahead. She turned down a hallway and eventually ended up at a slightly strange, almost reinforced-looking door. Eliza tapped the pad on the side. “Welcome to the Workshop, Fal-Mai. Watch your head.”

The door opened and Eliza slipped on in, Fal-Mai following close behind. A workshop was definitely what she would call this area, with a few workbenches set up with one of them having a few unknown devices on it. Compartments and more unknown machinery lined the walls, with tethered-down crates just beyond the stations. In the middle of the work area, Lily Shen and Mordenna were present, with SYN seemingly shut off and being worked on, chassis open and a device out on a table. Mordenna was working on SYN, Lily was working on the device.

A twinge of regret was all she got to process before Mordenna and Lily looked up. Mordenna was the first to speak. “Commander! And... sister!”

Fal-Mai regarded him. “Brother.”

The exchange was followed by a period of silence. Fal-Mai had expected her brother to be quick to fill it—but his eyes flickered to the side as if he was wondering how to begin. Eventually he found what he was looking for and began. “Well! You’re here and without your cuffs, I see. Finally batting for XCOM?”

“As I am,” she softly replied. “I believe it is the best way for me to go in the light of everything I have learned. It is... certainly the most convenient option to strike at the Elders with.”

Mordenna chuckled, gesturing at her with a tool. “What, staking out a life of your own not quite meet the cut?”

Fal-Mai tipped her head up a bit at him. “You would know best why I would prefer the support of XCOM.”

His joking face fell. “Yeah, yeah, I was an ass. Still am, probably, but trying to work on that.” Oh, he... hadn’t gotten what she had meant. She looked to Eliza, then back to him.

“Brother... I had meant our mutual experiences with the Elders, and with regards to the fact that we would want as much help as possible in eradicating them.” She offered him a hint of a smile in apology. “Though, your statement still does stand.”

He blinked, as if processing that. Then he gave a chuckle. “Well, alright! Hush my mouth I suppose.”

“Oh,” Lily interjected, “now you’re going to do that yourself? Finally.”

“Hey!” He pointed the tool at her—it looked like a needle with a thick handle that had a cord that ran to another machine. He’d been applying it to SYN’s chassis, it seemed. “You love every goddamn second of my banter and you know it.”

Lily blew air out of her nose incredulously. “You make some strange assumptions, Mordenna. Don’t think I’ll ever make heads or tails of them.”

“You’re just angry because I cracked the security on your workstation.”

“Are you expecting me  _ not _ to be?”

Eliza cleared her throat, stopping the two of them up. “As glad as I am to see you two have worked out...  _ most _ of your differences, we’ve got a purpose to being down here. Lily? Where are Fal-Mai’s weapons currently being kept?”

Lily gave an “ah,” pointing at a locker against the wall. “In there. I figured Fal-Mai wouldn’t want Mordenna messing with them, so I locked them up best I could.”

“Please,” Mordenna waved it off. “If I wanted in there, I would have done it faster than you could blink. You think I don’t know how to  _ lockpick? _ You wound me, Shen.” Getting a touch more serious, he gestured to his sister. “Besides. I may be an idiot but I’m not a dumbass. Don’t wanna fuck with her stuff and get myself killed over it.”

For one with as strong a deathwish as he had, Fal-Mai found that initially hard to believe. Maybe he just wanted it to be on his own terms... she didn’t think on it long, as she shook her head. “I will concede that much. Lily? Where is the key?”

“Hold on,” she said, ducking over to one of the tables and checking through the drawers. “Unless Mordenna’s gone and put it somewhere else, it should be right... here.” As she said that, she stood up, clutching a key. She tossed it to Fal-Mai, and the Assassin smoothly caught it.

“I do not foresee a need for my weapons at the moment...” Fal-Mai squinted at her brother. “Optimistically, at least. But having my key personally will be nice.”

“All else fails,” Eliza chimed in, “there’s the Armory. We’ve got lockers in there, too. I can only trust that you won’t need to worry about the lock being picked?”

By the way she phrased it, it was most definitely aimed at Mordenna. He held both hands up in a pacifying gesture. “Hey. If I wanted to mess with them, new strategy is to ask, right? Which, by the way...” He looked back over to his sister. “I built that shotgun of yours a  _ long _ time ago. A year? Goddamn. I think I’ve got at least three different ways to improve it, if you’d let me get my hands on it.”

Fal-Mai didn’t hesitate in shaking her head. “I will have to refuse. Not that I wouldn’t welcome improvements to my arsenal, but...” There was the whole matter of trust, and as much as she was going to try to give him a second chance? Not her weapons, not so soon. “Perhaps after a few missions, when I am convinced I might need the upgrades.”

“Right, right...” Mordenna looked defeated and perhaps a touch annoyed at that, but he didn’t say much else.

Lily was the one who picked up the slack after that. “Alright, backtrack me here. You made her shotgun too, Mordenna?”

Mordenna perked right back up at the question. “Sure did! Jax’s rifle, too, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen him use the poor thing. The  _ Heretic Eradication Rifle’s _ just going to waste like that.” He scoffed. “Renamed it the Disruption Rifle, too. Stuffy bastard.”

Seeming to ignore the rest of his tangent, Lily pressed on. “You make her sword, too?”

“That? Nah. Just the dagger in the hilt. Elders handed off the sword to her, I’m pretty sure.”

Fal-Mai nodded, casting another glance over to her weapons locker. Maybe... she could just carry the blade on her. She meant no offence to Eliza and her crew. Perhaps just  _ some _ offence to Mordenna. “Indeed. A sword of astral metal, unbreakable by any means. Psionically conductive, as well.”

“Unbreakable?” Lily sounded disbelieving. “I’d pay money to test it out, considering I’m sure compounds like that don’t even exist.”

“Oh, they very much do,” Mordenna countered. “My brother’s gauntlets are made of the stuff. If he got crushed by a Sectopod, all that would be left of him would be the damn things.” Though, it seemed something came to mind for him, as he scowled. “Figures I could never get my hands on the stuff. I just know there’s a cache or two of that shit here on Earth but  _ god knows _ the Elders would never let me get my hands on it.”

As the two of them started to talk to each other, Fal-Mai slowly began her walk over to her locker. She’d decided—she would be taking the blade with her. Arashi could stay, she would reclaim it when she needed it. But the blade was something of a comfort item. It was essentially an extension of Fal-Mai herself, and she was able to move it as if it were another limb she had from birth. Almost as close to her as her shroud. Almost.

“If I didn’t know any better,” Eliza added, “the Elders kind of sound like dickheads.”

Fal-Mai crouched down and sought out the lock, inserting the key after a failed attempt and turning it. The locker clicked open and out swung the door, revealing her weapons inside. Her throwing daggers were there as well—that had been a somewhat awkward disarming by Mox, and the experience really hadn’t endeared her to him. After a moment of consideration, she slotted them into her belt. Better safe than sorry.

“The Elders are bastards!” Mordenna stated resolutely. “Never let that leave your mind, Lizzie. I’m sure it never will, but everyone’s gotta know. I will not  _ rest _ until the tiniest  _ songbird _ knows that the Elders can blow it out their asses.”

Taking her sword out and holstering it on her back, Fal-Mai stood up and rejoined the group. Not before locking up her locker again, of course, stashing the key on her person for good measure. “You certainly have grown more...  _ colorful _ in your vocabulary, brother.”

He shrugged. “Just part of the liberation, dear sis. You think the Elders like swearing?” 

Fal-Mai understood the implication there. It was likely that it was one of the things the Elders used as a flimsy excuse to lecture him with. Still, there was something else that was on her mind. She turned her head to Eliza. “Commander? How soon do you think you will be able to undertake my mission?”

“Let’s see...” Eliza tapped her chin. “If you want ‘as soon as possible,’ I’m predicting about four to five days. I feel like we’re close to finding out the source of that transmission in this area. After that, it would just be the flight time needed to wherever your facility is.”

“Hold the phone.” Mordenna pointed his tool between the two of them. “Fal-Mai gets to send you on missions right out of the doghouse? This is an injustice, Commander, and quite frankly I won’t stand for it.”

Eliza smirked for a moment, but it was gone quickly. “—Fal-Mai, may I enlighten him?”

She considered that for a moment. To let Mordenna know... this was supposed to be a very personal undertaking for her. Yes, she could accept the company of whoever else Eliza sent with her on the mission, but Mordenna? To her Ascension Facility? She would rather that not be the case. “... With the concession that I would prefer it if he does not come with, for reasons I hope he will glean from your debriefing.”

The Commander nodded. “Mordenna, it’s her Ascension Facility. She wants it gone—and besides, best we get the files out of there, anyhow. If we can even just inconvenience the Elders, I’ll take the chance to do so. You can understand why she doesn’t want you in on that, right?”

Mordenna was quiet, but to his credit, he didn’t look slighted. Merely contemplative, and after a bit he slowly nodded. “... Yeah, I understand that. Got SYN to fix up anyways, right Lily?”

“Yep. Nearly done restructuring his core, but probably not in time for that mission, sadly. There’s... a few other tweaks I wanted to make to his systems to prevent too much data loss in the future.”

Fal-Mai lidded her eyes. Again, the regret surfaced, and she felt compelled to say what she was about to. “—I am... sorry, that I destroyed your companion. From the way I have observed him in the field to your squad’s mourning...” There had been a lot of hushed whispers during her extraction, and even some silent moments where most of the squad spent some of their time regarding SYN’s body. From the way they acted... it seemed Fal-Mai had taken someone cherished. “He appeared to be important to you all. Though I may have had my reasons, I do not excuse my actions.”

Lily’s face softened. “I don’t think you should be apologizing to me, but thank you. I get that you might’ve needed to put up some kind of fight with the Elders breathing down your neck. Someone you should be apologizing to is Rosa.”

At that, Mordenna winced. “Yikes. Right. Think I owe her an apology too. Lest we forget I shot out SYN’s leg  _ and _ taunted whatever relationship the two had going between them.”

A... relationship. The SPARK was in a  _ relationship? _ Maybe with another AI, Fal-Mai could get more to grips with. But with a human soldier? It was almost surreal to hear. Though, the absurdity of it was outweighed by the realization that it meant that Fal-Mai had taken away someone’s partner. Her heart further ached. “Where... where could I find this ‘Rosa?’”

“The Commons, mostly,” Eliza replied softly. “Or you could catch her down here, watching over SYN. He’ll be back, don’t worry. From the sounds of it, Lily has him on the verge of being up again. Just make sure you do get your apology in—the  _ both _ of you. Letting things like that sit isn’t healthy to anyone involved.”

“Thanks, Dr. O’Leary,” Mordenna muttered, lacking his usual joking air despite his statement.

That left Fal-Mai with not much else to do, other than explore this new environment. Taking in a gentle breath, she nodded to Eliza. “If that is all, I will be taking the time to familiarize myself with the Avenger.”

“Understood.” Eliza gestured to Lily. “Lily? We have any spare communicators?”

Lily eyed Fal-Mai a bit. “... considering how Fal-Mai’s hearing works? I’d probably need to make one custom for her. Don’t want to blow her ears out trying to communicate with her, of course. Won’t take long at all.”

That... was some pleasant consideration on the Chief Engineer’s part. Fal-Mai would’ve likely caught it herself, eventually. She hoped. But to have it caught this early on was nice. Eliza seemed to think the same—she offered Lily a warm smile. “Good thinking, Shen. Fal-Mai? I’ll have the communicator put on the table in the Chosen Holding Cells. I figure you know where that is, and it’s easier than trying to seek you out in your cloak. When we get your room situation sorted, I’ll contact you through them.”

Finding it agreeable, Fal-Mai nodded. “Understood, Commander. I will await them.”

With that, she let her cloak slip around her, and she departed the Workshop. There was much to explore.


	22. Imperfection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> XCOM and the Assassin siege her Ascension Facility.

The trek to her facility was long, but Fal-Mai had traversed greater distances before.

Fal-Mai was a fair distance ahead of the group Eliza had assigned her. She was initially worried at first—Eliza had sent two of the troops that had been witness to her destroying SYN with her. Banel and Edgar, to be precise. Maybe the inclusion of Samhien was to counterbalance that. The other SPARK, Julian, certainly wasn’t one she had seen often, but she felt responsible for his presence. Finally, she knew much of the sniper at the back—Fal-Mai remembered quite a few of Moody’s attempted flirtations on the field. She hoped he’d keep that down.

The Assassin was actually keeping her cloak down for now. It had been discussed in the group that she was to remain visible until potential contact, and then keep in touch via communicator from there. Said device was as comfortably placed in her ear as she could manage—even then, she was ever conscious of the low static it gave off. Lily had made her efforts in reducing it, but Fal-Mai had learned there were no truly silent devices, especially so close to her eardrum. It was... ignorable, but an auditory reminder of who her allies were.

Besides, her concentration was far greater than to be disrupted by what amounted to white noise. She scanned over it, picking out the dry crunching of the grass in the cold air. Four sets of feet, one set of servos... and tens of scrabbling claws as the beat of wings against air occasionally sounded out. Edgar’s ravens were out in full force, some going even farther than she was. The fact that such a psion existed at all drove her to wonder what else could be out there. As it stood, the Raven King had certainly earned his title.

Thankfully, she hadn’t had to tell the squad behind her to keep their voices down. About the only disruptive person she had to deal with was Julian—and she was quickly memorizing how his mechanics sounded. ADVENT MECs sounded subtly different from SPARKS, and now she knew what to listen for. She kept her profile low on approach, eyes forward as they moved through underbrush.

Over the din of shifting foliage and raven croaks, a more distinctly industrial sound started to hit her ears. She held up a hand as she halted, hearing the advance behind her stop. Fal-Mai cocked her head as she listened in. ADVENT transport. Four... no, five sets of tread. Less and less as time went on. More deep, but reverberating humming. Fal-Mai had heard enough. “ADVENT dropship up ahead. Transporting at least five troops  _ away _ .”

“ _ There’s a ‘raid’ on an ADVENT station going on not far from here that the resistance has covered, _ ” Bradford said, filtering in over her comms. “ _ It’s a diversion. Good thing they bought it. _ ”

“Which means less of ADVENT’s goons to fire at us,” Julian concluded. “The incompetence they show never ceases to amaze.”

Fal-Mai squinted. There could still be security up ahead, enough to reasonably cover her facility. She would still be cautious. “Best to advance.”

Menace One-Five, thankfully, seemed to get the message. She resumed her stalk, mindful of her team behind her and the ravens around her. The thicket of trees was beginning to thin, and Fal-Mai could catch glimpses of gray between green. The facility was within sight. Fal-Mai found her pace speeding up despite herself. It was nearly time; nearly time to demolish the one remnant she could destroy of her creation within ADVENT. If she was to be allied with XCOM, she would not let the Elders possess so much of her.

The cover of trees broke, and Fal-Mai found herself staring down her Ascension Facility. It loomed in the clearing of the forest, far from the public eye, almost hiding itself. A strange ache went through her at the sight of it, but she didn’t focus on the feeling long. Her eyes went to work scanning the security detail.

Edgar had her covered, however. “Four turrets, each on one of the corners of the building. There’s an Andromedon working its way inside. Four Troopers, and one of the ravens is sure it spotted an Officer in the facility itself.”

If that was what all the security detail was, Fal-Mai felt as if they weren’t even bothering to keep her “cradle” safe. Biting back a scowl, she glanced to her team, then looked back ahead. Their loss. Easy or difficult, she would destroy this monument to what Helena made. “I would like to scout around the building,” she murmured, “and observe any potential blind spots. I may look in, of course.”

There was a general chorus of affirmations from the squad, and Fal-Mai let her shroud overtake her being. The white noise in her ear didn’t cease—perhaps that was one thing her cloak did not mask. Noting that for the future, she advanced silently, feet guiding her around the facility. As she passed the windows, she peered in. Sure enough, one of them revealed an Officer and a Sectoid, but outside of the already accounted-for security? That seemed to be it. Minimal, but still present. “I can confirm the Officer, and there is a Sectoid with it.”

“ _ Noted. _ ” That was Banel. “ _ Anything else? _ ”

“I will keep looking.”

Fal-Mai stalked away from the window, now on the opposite side of the facility. A watchtower stood, seemingly vacant... but Fal-Mai looked in to make sure. Empty. She checked around the other side of it, and it too was barren. 

She was halfway through walking back around when ear-splitting psionics rang through the air.

Fal-Mai stumbled despite herself and steadied against the side of the tower, hands over her ears. She recognized this sound—but being  _ outside _ of it and hearing it was a vastly different experience to being ferried through the Void. A Chosen was being brought in, and considering who remained...

Having squeezed her eyes shut, Fal-Mai lifted her head, praying her cover wasn’t blown. Thankfully, Jax had warped in with his back to—

Wait. What was wrong with his armor?

From Fal-Mai’s angle, the back of Jax’s armor looked like it had been nearly destroyed. Partially melted, it was as if someone had forced him against a pyre. But, no man-made flame on Earth could warp the metal of their armor as such. From the way the damage seemed to blossom out... and how there seemed to be several smaller damaged spots...

A fire to match the heat that branded Jax burned in Fal-Mai’s gut. She knew he had been punished, but that? That was a mark of far too much strength used even for a “disciplinary” action. Fal-Mai could only wonder as to how much force the Elders used in their punishment of him. Her back ached simply thinking of it.

After a moment of taking in a breath, Jax advanced. She knew she couldn’t let him reach her squad, or her facility. Dropping her cloak, she stood up on her own and molded her face into a calm mask. “Brother.”

Jax wheeled around, catching sight of her. His face went through a range of emotions at once, finally settling on a hesitant one. “—Sister. You... you are here.”

“As I am.” She crossed her arms, levelling an even gaze at him. “Do you seek to defend this facility?”

Jax’s hands tightened into fists. “It would be low of me to not put in at least the same effort I saw to put into defending our brother’s cradle. I figured XCOM would be moving on either of ours soon enough—and the raid nearby was simply too convenient.”

To his credit, Jax was not dull. At the very least, he could see a pattern when it was forming. Still, the thought that he wanted to defend it on some misguided sense of... familial bond? What did he seek to do? “Why? I can assure you that I do not come here today alone, and assuredly you must know why.”

The Warlock’s face twitched at that, and he gave a half-hearted scowl. “You... you would also debase yourself in joining with this foolish resistance? I knew Mordenna would be easily swayed, but you? I had higher hopes, sister...”

“You have not answered my question,” she stated firmly. “My reasons for joining XCOM are sound. Believe me—I had also thought what they did to Mordenna to be foul play. But, I have had time to think. The Elders are not what they want us to believe they are, brother. If you say you have higher expectations for me...” Her gaze turned hard. “And if you are capable of picking out a pattern... do you not think this odd?”

Jax shook his head. As angry or even disappointed as he seemed... there was something else beneath it. His heart was racing and his breathing was a bit uneven—and there was a certain  _ roughness _ to it that was not there before. “XCOM and its wayward Commander has deluded you, twisted your mind into believing that these are your own thoughts. Tell me your reasons, Fal-Mai. I contest the very fact that your reasoning could be sound.”

Fal-Mai spread her arms out. “Because what Helena had imposed upon me was hypocritical. A good parent would not leave their child fearing for their life at punishment, would they? When have the Elders ever been emotionally invested within our health? Physical, yes. But everything else? Do you not  _ think _ there must be a reason Mordenna is the way he is?” She gestured to him. “I felt what you felt, brother! I have seen the back of your armor. Does that strike you as something a caring parent does?”

At her last point, something in Jax shifted. His eyes widened and he turned to the side, clutching his forehead. As his breathing sped up, feelings began to ghost at the back of her mind. Terror. Agony.  _ Hopelessness. _ “N-no. They are j-justified, Fal-Mai! I failed Them. They—”

“Were angry and wanted someone to lash out at, brother!” Mordenna’s words once again ran across her mind, and this time she fully understood. Seeing Jax devolve into such a state like this only reaffirmed the truth in them. The Warlock was not meant to be an anxious, fearful being. Not in any right world. He was not meant to parrot the very same excuses she found herself running to in his situation. “ _ Please, _ Jax. Don’t you see what they’re doing to you?”

Jax squeezed his eyes shut, and the ghosts of memories got stronger. “—d-don’t... sister—” He took in a sharp breath. When he started again, his voice was low and tremoring. “They mean well. They  _ love _ us, Fal-Mai.”

“Is ‘love’ supposed to hurt?”

Jax didn’t answer. A second gauntlet joined in an effort to hide his face, palms pressed to his eyes. At this point, Jax was almost hyperventilating, and Fal-Mai was finding it harder to keep the memories out of her own head. She walked forward, deathly silent. She hadn’t meant to do this to him. Just to try and make him see a bit of reason... but it was clear that wasn’t going to happen unless it was a better space than this, and with him being away from the Elders. “Just... leave, brother. I want to destroy this place. I want the last monument to Helena’s hurtful ‘love’ to fall. We don’t have to fight.”

At this range, Fal-Mai could almost hear the churning storm of Jax’s psionics. “C-Cronus... He could be watching... I-I don’t want Him to see...”

She closed her eyes, trying to stem off a particularly powerful memory. Cronus had seen his tears. Cronus had punished him. The fire in Fal-Mai’s stomach burned brighter, and she took her dagger out of its sheath. “It’s ok,” she whispered softly, “I’ll send you back. Just don’t move; we’ll be coming for you soon.”

Jax tensed up at hearing it... but he didn’t try to move away, or even lift his hands to see what she was doing. She would make it painless. Flipping the dagger in her hand to reverse-grip it, she raised her arm and brought it plunging down, sinking into the base of Jax’s neck.

It was instant. The memories stopped, and Jax fell to the floor, motionless. Mere seconds later, he was whisked away in an ear-ringing column of psionics, leaving only the orange of his blood on her blade. Fal-Mai was left alone again... and the encroaching quiet reminded her of the white noise in her earpiece. XCOM had been privy to the whole conversation. She stalled where she was at, motionless. Then, she felt her mouth move. “Warlock down,” she intoned.

Eliza’s voice was soft. “ _ Good work, Fal-Mai. Rejoin your squad. _ ”

Fal-Mai’s eyes fell shut, and she brought her cloak in around her again. In the wake of the encounter... Fal-Mai was realizing how much the fire inside her hurt her. Jax was trapped with the Elders, unable to escape his fate. His only hope lay with XCOM, and Fal-Mai saw that clearly now. There was nothing he could do, and Fal-Mai related heavily to his helplessness.  _ We’ll be coming for you soon. _

Her chest ached, and her thoughts went to Eliza. A “shoulder to cry on.” Perhaps she would be seeking that out soon. Shelving the thought for later, she cleaned his blood off the best she could and sheathed her dagger, stalking back to the facility. Eyes moving upwards, she spoke into the comms channel again. “Menace, are you close?”

“ _ As close as it gets without knocking on the front door, _ ” Edgar replied. “ _ Those turrets are keeping us back. _ ”

“I intend to deal with them.” She would still fulfill her duty today, the turbulence of feelings inside her be damned. “I shall handle the closest set to you all first.” She hadn’t the foggiest about how the turrets were put together... but her blade was sharp and her aim keen. Cutting them apart  _ should _ make them stop working; she’d then just need to work through the ensuing mag fire.

Silent as the grave, Fal-Mai took a running start, making a bounding leap and grabbing onto the guardrails of the roof. From there, she pulled herself up and transferred the momentum into a roll forwards, righting herself in time with the unsheathing of her sword. As her blade raced forward, the veil of her shroud peeled back, and she found only mild resistance as she cut the turret cleanly.

The priming of chambers and smooth grind of metal around her told of her assumptions being correct. Fal-Mai ducked and strafed with her body close to the ground, narrowly avoiding gunfire. Their positions were fixed—making it trivial to weave around the bursts of mag shots. An upwards cut disabled the second turret overlooking Menace’s approach, and she heard the scrambling of footsteps below. Assuredly  _ others _ had heard the turrets go off, but she would leave that skirmish to them at the moment. More fluid movement brought the Assassin to the other turrets, and two swipes more meant the security detail on the roof was neutralized.

Efficient. Deadly.  _ Graceful. _ It did not matter for which side she fought. The Assassin was meant to be perfection in every movement. Meant to be. The knowledge of the facility below her could turn everything upside down. What if she learned something that would make her want to go back to the Elders? What would Eliza say then? Surely she would have no place for her own defectors—and it would be easy to guess what the Elders’ response would be. It didn’t matter. Fal-Mai just wished that fact could make it to her gut.

Working through her thoughts, Fal-Mai turned to the battle below. Two Troopers had already been shot down, and the rest of the guard were fighting tooth and nail against XCOM. Her eyes scanned to the Sectoid. Many a time, she had been witness to their potential deadliness on the battlefield, how they twisted the minds of the resistance and offered a chance to fire upon those they called allies. Not here, not today.

As easily as she breathed, Fal-Mai slipped back into her cloak, blade out as she vaulted over the side of the roof. With a roll on the ground, she sprang from her position, her cover flying back as she sent the tip of her sword into the Sectoid’s chest. The second it was clear she had hit home, she spared no time to savor the kill. There was no joy to be found in it, after all, and she pulled back from victim and sight. Already she could see the rest of the security detail reacting to what they just saw—the Officer looked distinctly unsettled and the Troopers nervous.

No time to be spared. Sliding into low cover, Fal-Mai considered her next target. The Troopers were speed bumps. The Officer could be dealt with later. The Andromedon? That would be her next course of attack—so long as she could handle it carefully. There needn’t be much said of their toxic backlash.

As more plasma fire erupted from her squad, Fal-Mai was quick to call out her move into comms. Almost as she said it, she surged forwards, ducking under one of the suit’s arms and plunging the blade through its side and to the rider. As she withdrew her blade, she spun around to its back and kicked it forwards, shattering the containment suit’s glass against the ground and the acid with it. She could assume that someone in the squad would deal with its backup system—an assumption made rightly, as Julian fired into its downed form.

Slipping back into the shadows, the din of battle was proving distracting. The screaming of plasma through the air, the cycling of gun chambers, the priming of mechanisms, the callouts of the squad, the white noise in her ear...

All too much. Fal-Mai was attentive but not omniscient. The only sign she got of the grenade was it hitting the ground—then, the ensuing blast.

She could feel a white hot pain overtake her left side as she distinctly felt shards of shrapnel bury itself into her—stopped from going too far by her armor, thankfully. Less thankfully, and more painful, was the ringing that overtook her ears and sent a splitting migraine across her consciousness. Fal-Mai felt a scream rip through her throat and her shroud vanished. She was exposed. The Officer had a good shot. Fal-Mai was sure there was a kill order on the Network with her name on it.

The distinctive crack of a plasma lance rang through the air, and the only other thing that accompanied the silence afterwards was the thudding of a body against the ground. Ears still ringing, Fal-Mai looked around. All of the resistance against them were felled—including the Officer that had thrown what should have been a life-ending grenade. Looking back, the acrid smell of plasma hung in the air as Moody’s rifle cooled down. He lowered his gun, eyes trained on her. “You alright there, love? That sounded like it hurt.”

“Sorry about that,” Banel said, gun still raised and pointed towards the facility. “Had a good shot on ‘em but miscounted my ammo.”

“Ah, good old Baal. He’s got a big gun but he—”

“Menace, please, observe the facility ahead.” Samhien cut across them, stepping over barriers and rubble towards Fal-Mai. “I’ll tend to the Assassin. Secure the area, double-check for stragglers. I’ll catch up shortly.”

Even for someone of his personality, it was clear to see that Sammy hailed from ADVENT in certain situations. Summarily ordered, the rest of the squad moved forward. Edgar was already reporting that the ravens weren’t picking up anyone else around, but Fal-Mai was more focused on the Skirmisher coming towards her. From a bag on his hip, he was producing a number of tools as he approached. “Assassin Neylor, please sit down with your side exposed. I am aware of your heightened regeneration—but we cannot let any shrapnel remain.”

Pain stil coursing through her nerves, Fal-Mai complied and leaned against one of the barriers, doing her best to lean away from her injuries. As the crouched down, he adroitly handled his tools. “I understand you are in pain, and I am here to help. I must ask some questions before I work. Would you like localized anesthetic, and where did you feel the foreign bodies enter?”

Though Fal-Mai had never been alive to witness ADVENT Medics in action, she could only imagine that was a practiced opening ingrained into their genetics. Sucking in a breath, she responded. “Yes. Five of varying sizes into my side, two into my thigh.” She counted herself very lucky that anything else either missed her or got stopped by her armor. If that blast had been any closer...

Producing a syringe, a bottle, and a wipe in short order, Samhien prepared his needle and injected Fal-Mai. The pinch was nothing compared to what she had felt before—but the coolness of the liquid certainly caught her off guard. It was quick, and Fal-Mai could feel her side going blissfully numb. Not her thigh—but she could grit her teeth for that part. “Alright. You’ve been numbed up. The agent is quick-acting but does not last as long as a normal numbing solution. Please remain calm and allow me to do my work as quickly and safely as possible.”

With that, Samhein went to work at an impressive speed, working his tools and extracting the shrapnel from Fal-Mai’s side. Though she felt nothing, it was still somewhat unnerving to watch him take out everything. She averted her eyes, looking to the facility. Menace One-Five had already entered, and over comms it was confirmed they were doing a check of the place. Things were coming up empty, and Julian was commenting on an exposed access point.

A sharp sting of pain in her leg brought her back and she hissed, causing Sammy to stop up. “Should I inject at your leg, as well?”

“No,” she was quick to shoot back, “I would not waste more of your resources on temporary pain. Keep going.”

Samhien nodded quickly, though she could practically sense his concern through his helmet as he went back to work. It stung far more without the numbness, but Sammy was swift and spared no time for nerves. Soon, every piece of shrapnel was collected in a bag and put into his pouch with the rest of his tools. His hand went to the medkit on his other side, but he stopped up. “As I am aware of your regeneration... do you want me to apply the medkit to you?”

She shook her head, moving to stand. It would take longer—and she was not Jax—but her wounds would close. “Save it for one who needs it. If it is a problem, I can be tended to back on the ship.” Her eyes slid back to her facility. “There are more important things to be handled.”

“Nothing is more important than your health, Fal-Mai. Physical, mental, and emotional.”

Fal-Mai closed her eyes, letting his words sink in for a moment. Her physical health, she needed to consider a lot more nowadays. This wasn’t a time where she could shrug off her injuries and rely on a Sarcophagus to bring her back. Her mental and emotional health... had she ever cared for those during her time at ADVENT? It was easy to say “no” to that. She had told Jax no, after all. Opening her eyes, she started to gently walk forwards. “Then let this facility be key to my mental and emotional health... friend.”

Once she heard Samhien following behind her, she sped up her pace, ducking through an open door into the building. Once she caught sight of the scenery, Fal-Mai was hit with a massive dose of her own memories. Clean floors, red glass, the humming of electricity and machinery. The smell of sterile instruments, metal wiring, and suspension fluid. It was her cradle.

She would be glad to see it go.

Turning to Julian, currently surveying with his BIT, she cleared her throat. “All you need to do now is take what you wish from this place. Afterwards... I want it destroyed.”

“No need to ask twice,” Julian grumbled, “just making sure there isn’t any other admin points around here that I can get a better uplink through. Seems not, of course, ADVENT were never clever with their network infrastructure. HAL, over there.”

Julian’s BIT flew over to a currently-on monitor, and soon the back of it and the computer were showing streams of data. A certain clicking caught her ear and she looked to the side. Banel was hooking up X4 charges to pillars. He seemed to notice her looking. “Normally we only use one, but I figure two might be a good capstone on all of this for you. Sound good?”

She nodded. “Whatever brings this abhorrent monument down.”

“Could say that again.” Banel inputted a sequence on the second charge. “Central, X4 charges placed and armed.”

“ _ Good work, Menace, _ ” Bradford replied. “ _ How’s that hack going, Julian? _ ”

“I’m an on-board AI,  _ not _ a cracking program! But, in other news, like a charm. It’s ADVENT, their protocols are made out of gum and prayers. You should be getting what little data’s here... now.”

“Read it.” A few heads turned to Fal-Mai. She closed her eyes, unable to meet their gaze as she knew what she was saying. “I must know. Perhaps XCOM should know too, if they doubt my loyalties.” This was a very big gamble she was playing here, and she knew it. If those files somehow pointed towards her being just what Helena had told her she was...

There was a bit of silence, but eventually Lily’s voice came over comms. “ _ About two years spent on the creation process... signed by an Elder named Helena. Project name Pandora. _ ” Next to her, Moody and Edgar winced. “ _... it’s—it’s acknowledged here that it should’ve taken at least one more year to iron everything out, but there’s a transcribed log here—it says that Helena just ‘wanted this tool out there to show Odin and Cronus their shortcomings?’ _ ” Lily’s stifled rage was clear through her reading of the quote. “ _ Apparently the— _ **_your_ ** _ blast weakness was ‘noted’ but accepted as a ‘reasonable, minor setback.’ _ ” Then, a while of silence. She thought she could hear Lily take in a shocked breath. “ _ Says here a few months were spent on trying to make you emotionless... just a few. It didn’t work. Added note that she’d ‘take care of it herself.’ _ ”

Everything Lily said hit Fal-Mai like a truck. The bottom of her stomach fell out and she could feel every stare from the squad on her. Helena made her imperfect. Helena  _ knew _ she was imperfect. Helena forced emotionlessness on her,  _ knowing it was impossible. _ She hadn’t even tried very hard. She brought Fal-Mai into this world, knowing very much that she could feel, and told her not to.

The fire she had faced know Jax’s suffering burned harder and the flames licked at her throat. Fal-Mai grit her teeth behind slightly drawn lips. Anger, betrayal, mourning... all churning inside of her, begging to be let out. Begging for her to slip away from her squad and into the nearest city center, to take down anyone even related to ADVENT. They deserved it, didn’t they? They colluded with the Elders, colluded with Helena. They were a part of all this. They deserved to—

Before she knew it, she felt a pressure against her good side, and a fair amount of warmth. The contact startled her and she certainly jumped for a moment. Her eyes slowly drifted downwards, and thoughts of fleeing vanished. Samhien... was  _ hugging _ her. He was tactfully avoiding any of her bad spots. Of course. He must have felt the emotions that had risen like bile within her. Calmly, she took in a breath and let it out gently. Not emotionless. Just calm. She could not stymie her anger fully, but she would not unleash it here. “I hope that... that is conclusive, XCOM. Let us leave this place, and never come back.”

There was a silent agreement amongst the squad. They started the move out, and Samhien let up on his hug. He looked up to her. “Fal-Mai, are you alright?”

The Assassin watched the retreating forms of the rest of her allies, and didn’t respond for a moment. When she did, her voice was low. “No, friend. I am not alright. That is all I will say for now. Let us leave.” Mindful that she was on comms with no known way to tune out, that was all she kept it at.

Sammy nodded. “Let’s go back.”

Hardly needed to tell her twice. Following along after Sammy, Fal-Mai didn’t spare one more look back as they walked towards the flare hailing the incoming Skyranger. The wait for their escape was tense and quiet. How would one go about approaching a Chosen with their secrets laid bare like that? What did Eliza think, now? Her gut twisted and her chest burned. Would it not speak more as to her loyalty?

She could hear the Skyranger approaching long before it was visible. She kept her eyes trained on the skies at it was on approach, appearing over the trees and coming in to a hover. The back hatch opened and black cords draped from it. Watching everyone else take theirs—and watching Julian take off—she grasped hers and allowed it to lift her into the waiting deck of the ship.

Once inside, everyone filed into their seats, leaving one at the very end spared for Fal-Mai. She sat down, not looking at Sammy across from her. Instead, she looked out the open hatch, at the outside of her Ascension Facility. It started to grow smaller as everyone fastened their seatbelts and Firebrand took off. After a bit, she came over radio. “ _ Central, this is Firebrand. We’re clear of the hot zone. Mind giving us some fireworks? _ ”

“ _ Loud and clear, Firebrand. Detonating X4 charges... now. _ ”

Even from their position high in the sky and far away from the site, the explosion impacted Fal-Mai’s ears. But, she forced herself to keep her eyes looking head-on into the explosion that now encompassed where she had been created. Her cradle, where she was sworn into ADVENT, where Helena had given her the gift of life...

She was glad it was gone.


	23. Reparations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are handled around the Avenger, and Eliza makes plans for what's to come.

There was no rest for someone as wicked as the Commander. Least, that was what Eliza would snark to herself.

She was on her way to the Bridge, thanks to a summons from Bradford. He’d been upfront about wanting to discuss what their future plans for missions were. Eliza already knew she was going to insist on visiting the Warlock as soon as possible—and Bradford would go back and forth with her on it. Not that she begrudged him for doing so—if she was paying him, it would be what she paid him for. She valued that second opinion he brought, even if it was just to double-check everything she wanted to move forwards on. Besides, it wasn’t like she could get mad at him outside of that; the man looked too good to be cross at. It was criminal.

Chuckling the thought off, she stepped through the door to the Bridge. It was around “morning” on the Avenger, so the Bridge was quiet and empty as everyone else caught breakfast. Eliza would be over there herself eventually—but Bradford was waiting for her at the Holodeck. He nodded to her as she approached. “Commander.” He squinted at her, and his mouth set. “You catch yourself in a mirror? The bags under your eyes look horrible.”

Eliza gave a dramatic sigh. Truth be told... she’d woken up on her back in the middle of the night. Being on her back for twenty years tended to make the whole muscle memory, combined with sleep, freak her out. But Bradford didn’t need to be saddled with her problems. He was just as taxed as she was in leading the resistance. Still, might as well joke with him. “Oh, please, Bradford. You know damn well how they got there. You run my schedule of managing the whole place, guiding missions, wrangling factions, and  _ you _ see how hard it is to keep looking pretty.” She grinned. “I still manage though, don’t I?”

“‘Managing’ is a bit different than ‘handling it well,’ Eliza.” He crossed his arms. “I know you’ve got a lot on your plate, but you need to look after yourself, too.”

She gestured to him. “Did you and I not go to the same bootcamp? I know I don’t hit the GTS every  _ day _ but I do it at least three times a week. Plus, you know I’d strangle myself if I let my hygiene slip.”

His shoulders slumped, and Eliza felt like he had something more to say. But instead of voicing his concerns... he moved on. “Well, I could stand here all day and lecture you on how you’re not taking care of yourself, but we’ve got other things to handle.” Bradford leaned over and tapped a few buttons on the display, bringing the Blacksite vial up. “You and I know Shen was able to pull some coordinates out of this damned thing, but recently I pulled one of the favors the Reapers owed us to get a more thorough scout of the location. Apparently it’s a facility with a security detail to rival the force of the Blacksite—one of the scouts thinks they saw a  _ Sectopod. _ No word on what’s inside, but we do know that entry to the facility is ran through a checkpoint and two bridges.”

She eyed the display of the Blacksite vial before turning to Bradford. “Are you suggesting we move on it as our next mission?”

“That’s my thinking. We’ve left the Elders’ plans alone long enough in the hunt for the Chosen. The Skirmishers have been good in keeping that Avatar project down, but we need to make moves of our own to make good on the effort they’ve been putting in.”

Eliza clasped her hands in front of her. “About that.” Bradford locked eyes with her, but motioned to indicate he was listening. Eliza continued. “I will very much concur that we need to be advancing on the Elders’ project as soon as possible—but there’s one other thing that must be handled before we do anything else.” She levelled a calm gaze at him. “John. You saw Jax out there. I would think that what we heard over Fal-Mai’s comms is more than enough to say that we need to mount the mission to get him away from the Elders.”

Bradford opened his mouth to say something, then closed it, rubbing at his chin. The look on his face told of a sympathy going towards Jax battling with his duty as Central Officer. Eventually, one side won out. “As much as I hate to argue against that,” he began, “you and I both know what’s going on behind the Forge. We, at the very least, need to find out what’s in there.” He sighed. “Not to say that the Warlock can wait. Just...”

Eliza’s expression softened. “Look. You’re even having troubles justifying it. I know, we have to move immediately on it, which we can do. Mordenna and Fal-Mai can give me the location of Jax’s Stronghold. After that, we can then turn tail and head over to the facility. The difference would be a day at most, and you and I both know we have enough soldiers for multiple squads. We shouldn’t leave that situation going any longer.”

Looking at her for a long moment, Bradford sighed again and looked to the side. “Not every day you’re dealing with saving someone from a bad home life in war...”

“This war has been nothing but extraordinary situations, John.” She walked closer, placing a hand on his shoulder. “But XCOM has always been about making a difference where it can. Jax needs that.” She squeezed his shoulder. “And if you need me to run over all the non-emotional reasons, I can. Just to put your mind at ease.”

Bradford settled a hand on hers, face becoming more gentle. He always seemed to unwind a bit more with her around. “—just one. Just so my worries aren’t kicking my ass.”

“The Warlock is a valuable asset to the Elders, considering his psionic prowess,” Eliza began. “Taking him out, however we do it, will leave the Elders with no Chosen left to stand on, especially their strongest psion. Not to mention what the Templars will owe us.”

After a moment, he nodded. “Knew you’d have a good one, Liz. You do know I just—”

“‘Have to ask.’ It’s  _ alright, _ John. I know you’ve got your worries, and I could always use a second opinion. God knows you’ve set me on the right path in the past, many times over.” She could feel her gut starting to knot up. “Especially through First Contact...”

At that, Bradford moved his other hand to her shoulder. His shoulders squared and his face set. “Liz. Things were different back then.  _ You _ were different.”

Eliza fell into silence, though after a moment, she found what she wanted to say. “That woman was still me, John. Only at one point in time, but the fact that I could  _ be _ like that...”

“First Contact was stressful on all of us. Plus, I’ll be the first to admit that damn instructor of yours was shaping you into something nasty.” Bradford looked her dead in the eye. “You were fighting for Earth. Trying to please countries who didn’t give a damn about you. We were fighting a losing battle. Any lesser woman would’ve cracked under the pressure.”

“Any  _ better _ woman would’ve found another way.”

Bradford straightened, looking up into her eyes. “Eliza. What happened then,  _ happened. _ You’re different now. It doesn’t take someone who’s known you like me to say you’re a force of good. I know things weren’t exactly...  _ clandestine _ back then. But it’s different now. You are, too. And I’ll say that as many times as it takes to get it drilled into your head.”

Eliza looked at him for a long moment, lidded eyes meeting his. Every time she thought on who she was, she had sworn never again. But it had happened, hadn’t it?  _ And what makes you so different to the Chosen you try to save? Don’t you deserve redemption, too? _ It... was a matter of scale and power. The Chosen had the Elders dictating their actions. Eliza just had her. Her, a military budget, and six months of suffering.

Wordlessly, Eliza moved her hands and brought Bradford in for a hug. He didn’t seem to have been expecting it—but even so, he adapted quickly and returned it. The reassuring squeeze calmed her heart a little and she closed her eyes. “... thank you, John. For everything. I know I’m not exactly the easiest to work with at times. I definitely wouldn’t be here today without you.”

It was a moment before Bradford responded. “—I wouldn’t be here without you either, Liz. I’m doing what I can to return the favor. Someone’s gotta make sure you’re functioning, at the end of the day. And I’ll always step up to the plate.”

Eliza hugged him closer, relishing in the contact. She... definitely felt something for Bradford. But to ruin something like this by approaching a potential relationship? Though Eliza didn’t doubt his ability to be impartial even afterwards... he probably didn’t look at her like that. Bradford was a man set in the old world military standards. Falling in love with a “superior officer” like her was probably a thousand miles from his mind. Well, they could still be friends. “I’m glad to have someone like you. Never forget that.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

It was a bit more of relaxing in the hug before Eliza was the first to break it off. She stepped back from him, setting a hand on his shoulder again. “Alright. So, Warlock’s Stronghold as soon as I’ve got coordinates. Then, after that, Forge?”

A lot of tension seemed to have left Bradford. He looked as relaxed as Eliza had seen him in months.  _ Maybe I should hug him more often. _ “Sounds about right. Anything... anything else you want to go over?”

“Maybe breakfast.”

His chuckle made Eliza’s heart lighter. “Of course, Commander.”

 

* * *

 

Mordenna had seen a  _ lot _ of different things across the planes with those eyes of his. Horrors that defied description. The true, decaying forms of the Elders. Other dimensions that, when the time and location were right, were easier for him to see than the reality he inhabited.

But a human fawning over a robot like this was relatively new.

Theoretically, Mordenna knew it was at least somewhat likely, given the right circumstances. Humans could be so hyper-empathetic sometimes. So for Rosa to be in the room with him, gently talking to SYN as he went through the final touches on his main datacore wasn’t the  _ weirdest _ thing he’d seen. Merely notable. The main problem he took with it was how it reminded him that he’d said something a little... off-kilter to them.

_ The mighty Mordenna, worrying that he might’ve hurt someone’s feelings. _ Those kinds of thoughts were a little late, and Mordenna had to bite his lip to keep himself from saying them out loud. Rosa was fading into background noise for him and it was easy to feel like he was alone.  _ She’s practically talking to herself, there. Why not indulge? _ Easy; the things he was thinking about probably didn’t need to be aired around her.  _ Feelings, feelings, feelings. What’s got you so soft? _

“There’s nothin’ wrong with being soft,” he muttered before he could stop himself. Rosa stopped in her murmuring, and something in him spurred him to continue. “Liz is soft. Too soft for her own good, maybe, but damn good for others. Don’t gotta be a piece of shit, me. People out there have proven it’s possible to not be a huge nuisance and still get the job done.”

There was a bit of silence that Mordenna almost filled himself, if the chance wasn’t swiftly taken away from him. “You talk to yourself? Or are you trying to strike up a conversation?”

“Eh. Little bit of column A... nothing of column B, come to think of it.” Mordenna’s fingers flew over a datapad as he worked. “Hate to interrupt your little chat. Can’t help it, sometimes.” Talking it out with himself was just so natural. Mordenna could point to a few reasons as to why, but the urge had always been with him.  _ Even as a dog. _ He... didn’t want to remember that time so much, but it was present during his early ADVENT years, yeah.

“Interesting topic, at least. To an untrained ear, it might sound like you’re trying to get  _ better. _ ” Rosa rested her hand on SYN’s shoulder. “Definitely very interesting.”

“A comet strikes the earth, the Great Winter comes, and lo, I beheld a pale horse and its rider’s name was Death. Yadda yadda yadda.” He leaned over and picked up SYN’s core, turning it over to look at it. “Don’t think I don’t get what you’re implying. If you want to accuse anyone of bringing on the apocalypse, it’s Eliza. Without her, you lot would be—”  _ All dead? Very helpful, Mordenna. _ “—undoubtedly in a far worse place. Thank whatever deity you bow to for her.”

With her helmet off, Mordenna could watch as Rosa tossed her blond, mild shaved-undercut hair and chuckled gruffly. “Please. You say that like any of us don’t. The woman’s got her faults... but I trust her as a leader. Took me, put me where I belonged, and led me to SYN. I’m a happy woman.”

At the mention of their relationship again, he grimaced. He... really needed to get around to saying something about that. He didn’t want to repeat himself, though... so he’d save it for now. “Fair enough. One more minute and I’ll have your Prince Charming online.”

“Take the time you need.” Rosa’s voiced softened as quickly as she got confident. “I’d rather have him in one piece later than in subpar condition sooner.”

Nodding, Mordenna went back to wholly focusing on his work. The sooner he could get this bot online, the sooner he could apologize, and the sooner he could go back to being... relatively guilt-free.  _ Oh, Mordenna, a creature of guilt? Are you just feeling that because you knew Eliza heard that whole jab on your part? _ Maybe. But even if it just made Eliza happy, it had to be a good thing. God knows that, if nothing else, Mordenna was just trying to do right by Eliza now. Her little soldiers... eh. He’d work on that.

_ Was  _ working on it, come to think of it. He didn’t have to let Rosa in when she asked to see SYN. Could’ve just told her to pound sand as he worked.  _ So you can work around her. Big whoop. _ It helped that she didn’t  _ hover. _ She seemed more concerned with the big guy than anything else. He could get that attachment. Though he wasn’t like that with even his favorite guns, he could understand being like that with—

“Nope.” Rosa turned her head towards him as he interrupted his thoughts. He shrugged it off, reinserting SYN’s core, closing up his chassis, and tapping away on his pad. “Bad thought. Gone now. SYN’s coming online in three... two... one...  _ zero. _ ”

A mechanical hum sounded a few seconds after Mordenna pressed a final button. Lights on SYN’s chassis smoothly kicked on, and the Hunter watched as startup data poured across his datapad. SYN’s head raised, then he mechanically stood up and unfolded from his deactivated position, towering over Rosa and standing a bit under Mordenna. His head swiveled between the two of them.

Before he could speak, Mordenna’s eyes flickered to the datapad. “SPARK SYN. Give me a last action report.”

His systems hummed a touch louder before winding down again. “Last known action was receiving a second-hand debriefing from Chief Engineer Shen about upcoming mission ‘Shadow Screech.’ Judging by the way I am not at my charging station and you two have replaced her presence, I can reasonably estimate there has been some sort of an error.”

“As much of an error as getting a sword shoved through your chest can be. Yeah, it’s...” Mordenna trailed off. He was about to update SYN on the current day and what had gone down, but Rosa was now hugging the SPARK. The three of them lapsed into silence as SYN hugged his companion back.

Well. It was now or never. Mordenna anxiously cleared his throat. “Well! Now that the gang’s back together, I think there’s a thing or two I wanna say before I leave you two in peace. Firstly? Sorry for giving you an  _ emergency restructuring, _ tin man. Part of the hunt, and all.”

SYN’s neuroptics turned towards him, then back down to Rosa. “This unit considers the blow it had administered earlier to you to be ‘fair trade.’ There is no lingering hostility.”

“Hold your horses on that one,” Mordenna muttered quickly before continuing. “And, to the two of you?” He set the datapad down, running a hand through the hair under his hood. “I’m... I’m sorry for making that jab at you two I did. Wasn’t the best out of me. Maybe needlessly cruel even for me at that time. Probably didn’t feel lovely.”  _ Empathy?! Out of you? The world really is ending. _ Well, then, let it! This felt nice. Settling things without murdering someone gave him a better feeling than the haze of sorrow and regret. If that was cause for everything to end, about damn time.

The two lovers exchanged a look, then Rosa laid her head against SYN’s chest. “... it’s. Alright. I get your apology. Even as weird as it sounds coming out of your mouth.”

“Again, blame Eliza.”

“Already did,” Rosa shot back. “And, hey. I appreciate the meaning behind it. SYN?”

“The gesture is very much appreciated, Hunter Mordenna.” His servos sounded out as SYN nodded. “You did not have to apologize—your noted work on bringing me back online would have been enough. As it goes, your goodwill shows. Thank you.”

Mordenna cracked a smile, pointing a friendly finger-gun at him. “All good? All good. I’ll leave you two to catch up. Just remind him of what he’s missed,  _ Fortuna. _ Rest is up to you.”

With a wave from the two lovebirds, Mordenna departed from the Workshop, feeling a touch better about himself.

 

* * *

 

Sammy never did quite like walking alone in the ship.

Maybe it was something in him as a former ADVENT Medic that drove him to seek safety with others. Maybe it was something else. But being alone, even for just as long as it took to walk down to the Infirmary... Samhien kept his head down, focusing on his feet as he went on auto-pilot. It wouldn’t take long. He’d be in there, he could check on Clint, and that would be  _ someone. _ Maybe he could ask Sherry to walk him back to the Commons. Oh, but that would be interrupting her duties! He couldn’t impose on her like that.

The sound of other footsteps down the hall made Sammy’s head shoot up, and he was greeted with the sight of Vlad and Herod advancing towards him. Vlad... didn’t particularly look like he wanted to be here, but Herod was pointedly walking behind him, as if he’d prod him onwards if he’d slow down. Judging by the way Vlad felt, he certainly didn’t want to be here. The apprehension was pretty easy to read off of him. He had his helmet off too—revealing a scarred face with short, dark, curly hair on beige skin. Vlad wouldn’t lock his brown eyes with Samhien.

But! It was more people. Sammy could feel his shoulders relax, and he smiled warmly. “Vlad! Herod! Good to find the both of you well.”

Herod flashed him a smile. “Good to see you too, doc.”

Vlad himself didn’t say anything. Herod side-eyed him and nudged his foot. Muttering to himself, Vlad looked in Sammy’s direction. Kind of. “Hey.” Herod continued to glare at him, and eventually his apprehension gave way to resignation. Vlad sighed. “Look. Me, leaving you for dead out there, not good. Wasn’t a good call. You’re the medic, could’ve helped us two after.” Looking to Herod for a moment, his mouth settled in a line. “I... I’m  _ sorry _ you got nicked.”

Samhien stood silently for a moment, face turning neutral as he studied Vlad. His apology... wasn’t the most genuine, but there was a hint of effort in there that showed he was making some attempt to patch things up. Sammy understood that Vlad didn’t have the best of views on him and Skirmishers. Still, the fact that he was going through with this? It made Samhien smile again. “Apology very much accepted, Vlad. I’m glad you came forward with it! I understand my kind may not be the easiest to accept, but to see you making an effort is good salve.” He offered his hand.

Vlad stared at it for a bit. The pressure from Herod could be felt, but in the end, Vlad loosely took his hand and shook it once. “Well, glad that’s clear.” He was quick to withdraw, crossing his arms. “I almost thought this was going to have to be a whole thing—”

“Eliza chewed your ass out for a  _ reason, _ V,” Herod hissed, “Don’t make me finish what she started.” Turning back to regard Sammy, his face lifted again. “Vlad here will... need a bit more, I’d say, but he means well. Thanks for hearing him out, Sammy.”

Samhien nodded. The genuineness from Herod always cheered him up. “Of course! Now, do either of you have anything more to impart? I would love to talk more...” His eyes scanned, and the door to the Infirmary was right behind the two of them. “... but I have patients to attend to in the Infirmary. Clint’s state is tentative and I must insure he doesn’t need any additional assistance.”

“Sure thing!” Herod clapped a hand on Vlad’s shoulder. “We’ll get out of your way.”

Vlad finally lifted his gaze to eye Samhien... and something in him shifted. His shoulders slumped and the unease Sammy could always feel directed at him waned a bit. “... good luck, doc. Clint needs it.”

Sammy offered the both of them one more smile before they moved around each other. The two of them passed him, and Sammy made his way to the door, stepping in once he was granted access.

The sterility and relative quiet of the Infirmary always calmed Samhien. He felt right at home in the near soft edges of everything present—even if the new addition of one, soon to be two Chosen-sized beds in the back was something he would have to get used to. Fal-Mai had already been and gone through here for a checkup on her blast wounds—which had healed faster than Samhien gave the Chosen credit for. That left Clint on one of the far beds, EKG pulsing softly as the PsiOp weakly regarded him.

Sammy went to work cleaning his hands in the sink before approaching him, swiftly getting his gloves on, reaching Clint’s bedside. “Clint Vonnet. Can you hear me?”

Clint groaned, rubbing at his eyes. “Y—yeah, Sam.” He winced, probably catching the lights in the ceiling. “—got anymore painkillers? This headache’s going to send me to hell.”

Checking Clint’s IV bag, Sammy nodded. “I can get you some more, yes, but we’re going to have to meter out your doses.” Taking the near-empty bag with him, he got a new one along with some painkillers and a cup of water, bringing them back and handing Clint the latter two while hooking up his new bag. “Take those, and then I would like to do another mental wellness check.”

“Aye-aye, doc. God...” Clint popped the pills in his mouth and took a full swig of his water, sighing afterwards. Samhien took the cup as he was offered it, tossing it before coming back.

“Clint, please look to me.” When he did, Sammy continued. “Do you know what year it is?”

“2035.” He paused. “Unfortunately.”

“Who is your Commander?”

“Eliza O’Leary.”

“Do you now remember what you were last doing?”

Clint squinted, kneading his forehead with his hand. “—a little bit more than I did yesterday. I was... in a squad, Sherry, SYN, Rosa, Roland? Uh... Arsozu. Arsozu was our fifth. We were going through a building; I remember killing some ADVENT, but isn’t that typical? Right.” He hummed in thought. “I remember talking about hockey sticks—”

That... certainly wasn’t correct. Samhien had gotten his hands on a recording of the fight from Eliza for when Clint woke up. He shook his head. “That wasn’t you. Mordenna was the one who was talking about them, bantering with the Commander.”

Clint regarded Samhien strangely. There was confusion bubbling up in his person, a lot of it. He shook his head, both hands on his temples. “No. I... I could swear that was me talking about that! I was—I was standing in front of the slab in my Inner Sanctum.”

Worry was growing in Samhien. “Clint. You’ve never  _ had _ an Inner Sanctum. It belonged to the Hunter.”

The PsiOp lapsed into a minute of silence. His eyes flickered about, as if in thought, and his index finger was tapping his head. After that minute, it stopped, and he looked Samhien in the eye. “Sam... I—I wasn’t a  _ Reaper, _ was I?”

It took a moment for Samhien to shake his head slowly. “No. Not to my knowledge. You were picked up by Eliza in your Haven, initially deemed unfit for combat until the nonstandard exercise psionic training offered allowed you a way into her forces. From there, you have become one of her most talented soldiers.”

Blinking a few more times, Clint muttered something under his breath before speaking up. “Alright. I... guess it was nothing.”

Samhien’s lips settled into a concerned frown. “I would believe your confusion leading up to asking that would provide a reason, yes? Please, tell me, Clint.”

After a hesitant second, Clint began. “Well... I’ve. I’ve got these  _ visions, _ I think. Winter trekking, trapping animals, laughing with folks that look a lot like Reapers. But...” Clint took his hands off of his head, staring at them. “My hands weren’t ever that calloused, I don’t think. And I remember  _ before _ never leaving the boundaries of the Haven when it snowed. I was always helping people out in the Haven, helping budgeting, fine detail work, bringing in kill hauls—” He shook his head. “No. That one... I’m wearing fingerless gloves. I don’t wear fingerless gloves.”

“You prefer padded, full gloves in all of your armor.”

“Right! But... there’s a memory I’ve got, doc. I can remember a bit of it as clear as I’m talking to you.” His hands flew about as he gestured. “I’m on my own, winter jacket on as I’m hunting. I’ve got my sights lined up on yet another rabbit. Standard fare, but it keeps the belly full if you kill enough of them—they’re about the only thing that’s survived the Chryssalids as well as they have. And then...” He shudders. “I just get this  _ feeling _ —like all the hairs on my back are rising up. I can only pick out the purple glow shining down on the snow around me when it’s too late—I’m getting scooped up by someone  _ huge! _ He takes my rifle and  _ crushes _ it in one of his gauntlets. I get a rush, like I’m falling, and...” Clint trailed off, arms lowering and hitting the blanket that covered his lower half. “That’s it. It just... ends there, like I got knocked out then, too.”

That whole recounting... deeply concerned Samhien. Judging by the things he had misremembered before, it sounded like he had picked up some of Mordenna’s memories in his overload. Samhien took in a breath, bringing himself into a more measured calm. “... I can assure you, as far as we know, that memory is not yours. I... believe you have picked up thoughts and memories from the Hunter when you overpowered him.”

“That...” Clint sighed. “That sounds likely. It’s going to be one hell of a deal to sort through.” He leaned back against the inclined part of the bed. “—anything else for me, doc? I want to get some good sleep. Think those painkillers are starting to work.”

“Well...” There  _ were _ a few more checks, but those were mostly centered around if Clint wanted to try to stay awake. He wound his hands together. “Just one other thing. Any residual pain or dizziness I should be aware of?”

“Outside of what’s been going on? Nah. Feels like... well, as normal as this gets.” Clint pulled up the blanket. “That’s it?”

“That’s it. Want the curtain drawn?”

“If you please. And—” He held up a hand. “I know where the call button is and where everything’s at. I appreciate the intent behind the whole closing deal, but I know, doc.”

Samhien nodded, grabbing a side of the privacy curtain. “If you understand, then I will refrain. Have a good rest, Clint.”

“Thanks, Sam. I will.”

 

* * *

 

Stepping into the Resistance Ring, Eliza’s mind was already working away.

Datapad in hand as she entered, Eliza automatically took her usual spot. It wasn’t nearly time to contact anyone—maybe Geist beforehand to assure him that they were about to handle the Warlock, but that was about it. “Can’t help it,” she muttered to herself, “it’s  _ my spot. _ I’ll stand here and get shouted into the cold, cold ground with a smile on my face.”

No, what she was here for was her monthly reports. It was getting closer and closer to the time Cato was going to contact her regarding her overall progress, and she wanted to be a step or two ahead at the meeting. “Not to mention figuring out if I want to ask the Resistance to do anything different. I think I’m still good with the gig I’m pulling with the Reapers... but I think the Skirmishers had something for me? Betos left me a message she wanted me to handle. Right, right, right...”

Opening up her datapad, she accessed the terminal in the room and checked through. Betos had, indeed, left her something. “Alright, talk to me, beautiful. ‘Commander, we have had a development I believe you will find most welcome. A rather  _ non-standard _ recruit came into our ranks, asking to be accepted. She calls herself Arachne and—’  _ Sectoid?! _ ” Eliza raised her eyebrows. According to the message, a Sectoid had come to the Skirmishers, seeking sanctum and the ability to fight back. Betos... tentatively accepted her, but admitted to Eliza that “while a hopeful sign, she is not the freed ADVENT we are used to.” Knowing that Eliza had, and did take in the likes of the Chosen and Wiki into her ranks, she was asking if Eliza could take her in. 

The Commander opened the field to respond. “I would most certainly  _ love _ to take her into my ranks... show those bastards up top that they are failing  _ everywhere. _ Should  _ probably _ talk to Shen about getting more living spaces sorted out. I’d love to be optimistic and say trends are going to continue.” Sending the message, Eliza straightened with a smile on her face. “Well! That brightens my day a bit.”

“It is good to know that news finds you well, Commander.”

Eliza could recognize the Assassin’s husky voice anywhere, but she still jumped. Recovering quickly, she beamed at Fal-Mai, currently standing near one of the new couches in the room. “Fal-Mai! Scare the daylights out of me, why don’t you. What do you need?”

Fal-Mai’s eyes flitted away from Eliza’s, and she slotted her fingers together in front of her, twiddling her thumbs. “... do you remember what you offered me, in my cell? I believe your words were ‘a shoulder to cry on?’”

Eliza got the implication immediately, nodding. She set her datapad down on the table and walked over to the couches, sitting down on one. After a moment, the Assassin joined her, sitting on the same one. Eliza clasped her hands together on her lap, looking to Fal-Mai. “Alright, Fal-Mai. What’s on your mind?”

Fal-Mai seemed to mimic Eliza’s posture and hand position, though she did not look at the Commander. She looked like she was going to start—but shook her head. After that, she tried again. “I will be blunt, Commander. Though I had gambled on something...  _ reprehensible _ being in my Ascension Facility files, I had not thought it would be so...” She splayed her hands out before bringing them together again. “So  _ clear _ , of how inadequate she was. How inadequate  _ I _ am.”

Eliza shook her head. “You’re certainly right about Helena, but definitely wrong about yourself. Calling yourself inadequate is implying you’ll always have one role in life to fill. Everyone has different callings, sure, but that doesn’t mean you can’t have a place in yourself for more than one thing.”

“I was meant as a perfect Assassin, Eliza.” She closed her eyes. “A role I now know as impossible from the very beginning of my creation.”

“ _ Was, _ Fal-Mai.” Eliza turned a bit more towards her and leaned forwards. “Under the Elders. Under ‘gods’ who didn’t give a damn about you. You don’t have to deal with their standards anymore.”

“But won’t I, Eliza?” Fal-Mai further squeezed her eyes shut. “I may not be with them now. But they have left an imprint on my very soul. I have been  _ branded _ thanks to their cruelty. For as long as I live, I will have to deal with what  _ she _ has done to me.” Her voice dropped in volume. “Is that not what makes me inadequate? Having to struggle with that forevermore? How could I ever be acceptable again?”

Eliza could feel her chest soften at Fal-Mai’s plight... as well as an anger for the Elders rise, but she shooed that off for now. Fal-Mai’s own feelings were much more important. Eliza gently spread her arms out. “Fal-Mai.”

Fal-Mai opened her eyes just enough to look to Eliza, and they widened a bitmore when she saw what the Commander was offering. She could see the Assassin’s shoulders tense for a moment... but quickly after, she reached out and hugged Eliza, dragging her close. As Eliza wound her arms around her, her whole body seemed caught between relaxing and staying tense, like she didn’t know what to do. At the same time, Eliza could feel the soft thudding of Fal-Mai’s heart as she was pressed against her chest. In a word, Fal-Mai was likely nervous. Eliza could handle that just fine, and stroked her back.

She... was quite a touch  _ stronger _ than Eliza gave her credit for, too. Mordenna hadn’t squeezed her this hard. Eliza endured, however—it was clear Fal-Mai needed the outlet; something made even clearer by her next statement. “A-am I  _ inadequate _ to you, C-Commander? Please, be truthful.”

“No.” Eliza said with conviction. “You are as far from inadequate as could be for me. I don’t want perfection out of you, Fal-Mai—it’s inherently impossible. Mistakes and accidents happen, and nobody should be punished that badly for them. There’s a clear line between a deserved reprimand and abuse of power.” She gave Fal-Mai a squeeze back. “I only ask that you put your best effort forth, and try to learn and grow. And trust me, I can see you’re trying—and I’m proud.”

Fal-Mai held Eliza closer, gently resting her head on her shoulder. “... I. I don’t know if I can learn how to stop trying to be perfect,” she murmured, voice shaking. “But I want to try. I just... don’t want...”

She could feel Fal-Mai start to shake and she gently shushed her, patting her back. “Failing is ok. You wouldn’t learn otherwise. You can learn a lot from a mistake. But let me make this clear—I will never,  _ ever _ punish you like the Elders did. That just doesn’t have a place on my ship. There’s acceptable consequences and then there’s  _ that _ , which none of you deserved. You understand?”

Fal-Mai nodded beside her, but didn’t verbally respond, opting instead to lean against the Commander. Eliza gladly supported her and kept running her hand across her back soothingly. The things the Elders did to the Chosen really cut at Eliza, and further reinforced the fact in her mind that she needed to go after Jax as soon as possible. This just wasn’t  _ right. _ Nobody should fear for messing up like this, and nobody should have had to go through that abuse. If she didn’t have a strong desire to make the Elders suffer before...

“E-Eliza.” Eliza nodded to show she was listening when Fal-Mai spoke up. “I... thank you. You didn’t have to do any of this.”

“Just because the Elders didn’t care for you doesn’t mean I won’t, either. I want to see you get better and I’d be more than happy to help you get there.”

Fal-Mai shook her head. “No. I very much think you do care. But... I would not imagine that a  _ hug _ would be so calming...”

It really was—Eliza could feel that, over the course of the conversation, Fal-Mai had steadily decided on relaxing. She wasn’t squeezing Eliza so much now as just holding her. Eliza smiled warmly. “A hug is a very powerful thing. You’re free to them at any time from me, and I’ll try to ask before I initiate them. I’m glad I was able to help.” She paused for a moment. “Is there anything else on your mind?”

“Not for now, but.” She felt Fal-Mai’s head shift, as if she were looking over at something. “I believe I interrupted you when you were working. I will let you get back to your duties.”

“Hey,” Eliza interjected softly, “it’s just paperwork. It can wait.”

But Fal-Mai shook her head. “I do not have anything else for you, Eliza. Merely a ‘shoulder to cry on’ regarding the files.” Slowly, almost  _ reluctantly, _ Fal-Mai pulled away. There were no tear tracks on her face, but were her eyes a touch more orange? “Thank you, again, Eliza.”

“Of course.” Eliza beamed at her. “I’ll say it again; I’m very proud of you. Coming to me to vent is a good action, and I’ll always be happy to hear out your worries and comfort you. Got that?”

Nodding, Fal-Mai moved to stand. “I will remember that, Commander.”

Eliza relaxed back into the chair... before starting upright. “Oh! One more thing. We’re... heading over to get Jax,  _ very _ shortly. Like, I’m handling these files and we’re taking off as soon as I have a squad together, shortly. Would you...?”

It was a moment, but Fal-Mai responded after some brief consideration. “Yes. I would like to help my brother escape the Elders. It would be right, after the distress I caused him.” She inclined her head towards the Commander. “If you require the coordinates to his Stronghold, I have them memorized.”

“Grand! Tell them to Bradford—he’s the one flying around here. Unfortunately.” Eliza got up. “That’s all I had. Bradford should be around here, most likely either at the Bar or the Bridge.”

The Assassin nodded again. “I will be seeing you soon, Eliza.” With that, Fal-Mai disappeared from sight, and the door to the Resistance Ring opened and then closed silently.

Now alone in the room again, Eliza got up and went back over to her spot, picking up her datapad. “Eliza, you are one outstanding woman, you know that?” She smiled fondly. “Not every day you get hugged by a tall, stealthy, attractive—”

She blinked, stopping in her spot. Well, that was a slip. But, the more Eliza thought on it? Fal-Mai had a very alluring charm to her. Far be it from her to give praise to the Elders, but Helena crafted something very beautiful. Fal-Mai’s unnatural warmth still clung to Eliza and made her feel cold against the usual temperature of the room. Her heart was still pounding, too...

Eliza groaned. “‘Letting your  _ worldly _ attractions influence your choice of allies, Eliza?’ We’ve been over this before with Mordenna. She’s Chosen.  _ Probably _ doesn’t have eyes for you.” She sighed. “Might even see you more as a mother compared to Helena, anyway. Let it be.”

Her heart still ached, but Eliza shrugged it off. She was a real bleeding heart, this much was true. Trying her best to discard those thoughts, she thumbed through her datapad, mind now focusing on Jax. He was still out there, and god knows how he was feeling against everything.

Eliza lifted her eyes to the world map. “Hold on a little longer, Jax. We’re coming.”


	24. Shatter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> XCOM comes for the Warlock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I put out Ch23 like, two days ago, but I got impatient with myself. Enjoy.

Even through the hallowed halls and reinforced walls of his Stronghold, Jax could hear the oncoming storm.

For now, it was distant thunder and closer rain—the low din making it through and filling the air with white noise. If it were any colder in the year, it might’ve very well been thundersnow. As it stood, it would be a while before the storm would descend upon his Stronghold and bring the noise with it.

Jax was occupying himself the best he could—lumbering in his facility aimlessly, nodding to the occasional Priest. For now, his thoughts were at a low drone, entertaining what he could even venture out to do as he bode his time. What he was waiting for... he couldn’t say. Some part of him knew that he would be the next to be advanced upon; it was not a matter of  _ if _ XCOM would come, it was  _ when. _ There would be no forewarning—just the cruel advance of their transport and a bold knock upon his door.

His eyes swept over the entrance to his Observatory and he half-wondered if he should be keeping his eyes on the skies. Even so, a kind of finality prevented him from moving upon it—as well as the weight of the device around his collar.

Looking over it again, he felt a weary gratitude bubble up. Cronus had summoned him a few days back... something he had initially met with the fear that He had taken notice of Jax’s recent lethargy, but the encounter had turned out far better than he thought. Cronus dubbed it something along the lines of the “Subversion Inhibitor.” Apparently, it would disrupt the technology used for the Assassin’s cuffs, should they move to capture him.

Though, that just brought Jax to thoughts of the battle against XCOM. He could not, and would not move his Priests against them. Nor his new platoon, who had made the integration smoothly. That left just Jax himself, considering his distaste for using any of the other forces available to him. He would face XCOM alone... and likely his two siblings, come to capture him and... what? Indoctrinate him as they had been?

The conversation with Fal-Mai sprung to mind and he made the effort to quiet his thoughts. No. He would not relive that embarrassment. To break down like that in front of her... she must think he was weak. Killing him then was a mercy to him  _ and _ her. He shook his head, casting his eyes forwards. Something,  _ anything _ to distract him from this train of thought.

As luck would have it, Maria stepped through a door ahead. She seemed to be looking for the Warlock—her gaze locked with his and she advanced, smiling. She arrived by his side and he could feel her familiar, comforting signature close to him. “My Chosen. How are you faring?”

“I have had far better days,” he began, “but I have also had far worse. This evening passes slowly—about the only noteworthy event is the storm.”

“It is good to hear you’re faring better.” She inclined her head. “Especially after recent events... nevertheless. The Stronghold itself fares well. No downtime in security—and our new brothers and sisters are integrating well.”

“Are they?” Jax gave a pleased hum. “Good to know. I was hoping they would find their place well enough. So long as they are good on your sisters, then they are fine by my reckoning.”

“More than good, my Chosen. They are almost overjoyed to have a facility such as this to call home. Jeanne herself is revelling in finally filling the role of your Head Officer.”

Jeanne, naturally, was the name of the Officer he had picked out in his “walk.” He felt it natural to give them names as he did his Priests—it was a more proper designation then having to call them by their numbers. “Is your utterance of ‘finally’ a complaint, dear Maria?”

Maria chuckled. “Not at all, my Chosen! Simply a pride at seeing you introduce more into your ranks.”

Indeed, it had gotten a little  _ livelier _ around the place ever since he had brought in the new recruits. They were rather fascinated in the art the Priests got up to in their free time, and the Priests were all abuzz about having fresh blood. He’d already heard through his own grapevine that there were plans for a grand showing to really get his new squad in the mind of recreation. It felt... more complete. More full. Perhaps he should have done this sooner...

He looked properly to Maria. “And what of yourself, Maria? Do you continue to do well?”

Maria’s smile grew warmer. “Of course. As long as you are happy, I am as well. To see you flourishing is what gives me happiness when I am away from my sisters or taking a break from my training.”

A smile tugged at Jax’s lips, and he could feel himself relax. “It is good to know, Archbishop. It sets a mind such as mine at ease. Especially...” Thoughts resurfaced, and his mood dropped. “Especially when it seems everything else is being taken from me.”

Her mouth settled into a concerned line, and she stepped closer. “These circumstances will have their place, my Chosen. You have done everything in your power to prevent them—you cannot be blamed for not achieving the impossible.”

“But is it impossible?” He crossed his arms defensively, looking away. “I have triumphed over XCOM in the past, sent their pitiful squads scrambling for safety as I took members of their own. Why do I find myself so deficient, as of late?”

“XCOM has grown. Their arsenal has evolved, as have their numbers. Their last action against you saw the deployment of your own sister against you.” Her hand settled on his bicep. “Please, Holy Father. You have done your best. There will still be triumphs to come. We must only strive for them.”

Jax lidded his eyes. If he argued any further, he would tread himself in circles, further casting his mood downwards. As much as he saw more failure as an inevitability... to linger on it did him no good. Maria was right, in a way—even if he would assuredly fail, there would be  _ some _ victories to be had. Maybe not enough to his liking, but they could be taken. That was small comfort.

A psionic ping drew his attention to her again. Maria had her arms outstretched, wordlessly offering a hug. Doing a quick check around him to make sure none of the new recruits were in attendance, he graciously accepted it, pulling Maria close to him. He was infinitely grateful he had passed his initial hurdles of thinking that he “shouldn’t stoop to  _ touching _ his Priests” and “hugs were meaningless,  _ childish _ gestures amongst humans.” As it turned out, they were something that made him feel a lot better. Didn’t help that he didn’t have to stoop to hug Maria, who came just shy of the Assassin’s height. Tailor-made for him by the Elders, and one of the few things he would never take for granted.

After a bit, Jax backed away from the hug, satisfied. Maria was positively glowing... but her gaze seemed to catch on his neck. “Now, I’ve been meaning to ask, my Chosen... but what is that around your neck?”

Jax found himself looking at the device again, as much as he could, anyhow. “It is a gift from Cronus Himself. This collar is meant to disrupt what technology XCOM will bring to bear against me when they come calling. I believe... He meant it as apology. I have been doing  _ somewhat _ better since my unfortunate outburst against Him. So long as I maintain my tongue, I am sure things will fare much better.”

Maria... didn’t look entirely convinced by that, but whatever argument she was about to put forward was suddenly interrupted. Across both of their minds flashed an urgent Network alert—the Skyranger was sighted on long range scanners. XCOM was coming.

The two of them locked gazes again before Maria clasped her hands in front of her chest, pleading. “Jax,  _ please. _ Let us fight beside you! Are you truly going to let XCOM come upon you without a hint of struggle?”

Jax’s face set like stone and he grabbed her shoulders, looking at her where he knew her eyes were. “ _ No. _ You are to run, as are your orders! Round up the rest of the personnel. If you stand against XCOM, the lot of you will be slaughtered.” He tightened his grip a moment as he could feel some vulnerability enter his voice. “ _ Run, _ Maria.”

He released her, and she opened her mouth to rebut him, to speak against him again. But, with a finality, she closed it. “... yes, my Chosen.” Quickly, she rushed forward and caught him in another hug, which he returned with a desperate squeeze. Then, she parted from him and he could feel her send out a message on the Network as she rushed away, deeper into his Stronghold.

The weight of Jax’s weapon on his back was cold comfort as he strode in the same direction, eyes forward and unwavering as the Stronghold erupted with activity. Perhaps there had been more Priests bargaining with him to fight—maybe some of his new squad were offering their guns despite Maria’s instructions. He heard nothing over the oncoming storm, roaring in his head and through the facility.

Eventually, he found himself at his Ascension Pad, stepping onto it and willing the Void to transport him to his destination. The Void was a temporary, comforting embrace as he was shunted from one world to the next, landing in his Inner Sanctum with nary a stumble.

He had seen his sibling’s homes. His was much more  _ decorated. _ Meditation mats circled the platform at the end of the area, with one such rug reserved for himself right in front of his Sarcophagus. Incense hung heavily in the air from several sessions of meditation, and there was even a harp near his Sarcophagus reserved for Maria’s talented hands. The raised platform in the middle was even home to a few paintings and statues deemed worthy enough to be lifted from the Studio.

XCOM was coming to ruin all of it. Attempting to put it out of his mind, he made his way to his personal rug, kneeling upon it and preparing to dip into the Network’s feeds.

That was his plan, until his psionics pricked with the sound of an incoming orchestra. Bolting up straight, Jax assumed a more dignified posture in time for Cronus to enter his presence fully. The weight of His psionics upon Jax’s mind was almost suffocating. “ _ Son. XCOM arrives. Have you prepared yourself? _ ”

“I have,” he murmured. “When XCOM arrives, they will find a resistance worthy of the Chosen Warlock’s power.”

“ _ Good. Let them know the true fury of the Elders, as I have gifted upon you. I will be watching, waiting. _ ”

With that, Cronus’s presence shrunk into nothingness. Letting the tide of his momentary fear subside, Jax dipped into the Network and watched through surveillance. For good measure, he entered the general comms channel that XCOM would be no doubt talking to him on once they entered.

It was a long while before XCOM came to his door proper, hopefully long enough for all of his troops to vacate the premises and flee somewhere safer. When XCOM arrived, it was with a deafening explosion—the elegant front doors of his Stronghold blown to nothingness. He watched as the squad advanced, host to many familiar faces. SYN, Rosa, Sherry... there was a new, green Templar that he might’ve seen before, but that was the extent of his knowledge. Finally, sprinting in from the back was Mordenna and Fal-Mai, with his sister looking a little shaken from the explosion.

Jax’s heart seized. He knew that, inevitably, either Eliza would assign them to the mission or they would come of their own accord. It was only natural, to field them against him. It still did nothing to abate the dread that rose up inside of him, knowing he would have to face both of them at once,  _ alone. _ Not to mention the squad brought with them. The confidence he had managed to rally was starting to dwindle. This wasn’t looking good...

Slowly, XCOM moved forwards. Over the microphones of the surveillance, he could hear their chatter. Sherry was taking over as squad leader, assigning Rosa and SYN to the front while... “Seer” played “lancer.” Mordenna was to stick to the back while Fal-Mai filled what was needed.

While there was agreement with the rest of the squad, Mordenna seemed focused on something else. He lifted his head, and after tapping his ear, his voice came over the general comms. “ _ Yo, Jax. Brother of mine. Big head extraordinaire. If you aren’t in here I swear I’m dragging you out of whatever art museum you’re caught up in. _ ”

Before he could stop it, Jax gave a “hmph.” The more things changed, the more they stayed the same. Figuring that was audible over the comms, he continued. “So here you are, flag bearers of XCOM and trespassers into this holy temple. As I have taught you before, siblings, I will teach you again to not tread so carelessly.”

Mordenna went “pffft.” “ _ What, by lecturing at me for three hours? Seriously, the broken arm I taunted you into giving me was seriously a better alternative. Eliza, I can’t work in these conditions. He’s going to talk me to death. _ ”

“ _ Need I remind you that you signed up for this mission? _ ” Eliza’s voice, as always, had that haunting familiarity to it. Twenty years of consulting her on the Network had lead her voice into being one of guidance. Now... it was one of rebellion. “ _ Keep your heads on straight, Menace, and keep pushing forward. _ ”

She got a variety of “understoods” out of that, and Jax watched as they moved deeper into his compound. Though he had seen their Specialist handle this very sort of mission no less than twice before, she seemed rather... distracted. Her head was on a swivel, but not for enemies. Sherry was admiring the architecture. Some part of him rolled with pride, and mused at the thought that if he  _ had _ fielded anyone against them, she would be caught woefully unprepared.

They continued their march through another room, and it was Fal-Mai who spoke up. She wasn’t currently visible—must have been either under her cloak or deeper within the facility. “ _ Jax. Where are your Priests? Any of your guard? _ ”

His hands balled into fists. He had been hoping to avoid them questioning this; but why wouldn’t they? After all, when met with enemies two prior times... there was also the fear that  _ someone _ might have heard her asking. He hoped Cronus hadn’t heard that. “Dare I deign to give you their locations? Do you think me foolish enough to give away their positioning to mere questions?”

“ _ No, _ ” Mordenna responded, “ _ but you’ve usually got the little ladies  _ **_everywhere._ ** _ Don’t tell me you’re— _ ” Then, horror of horrors, Mordenna stopped. Jax knew exactly what the Hunter had wanted to say next—but the very surprising fact was that he  _ didn’t. _ He had always sought to stick in knives and twist them where he could, but this time, he closed his mouth, waiting a second before he began again. “ _ Jax. Buddy. I don’t like this. _ ”

“You are the one who decided to intrude upon my sanctum.” He shook his head. “It is only your own doing that leads you to these observations.” Hopefully, if Cronus was listening, his vagueness would lead them to think they were merely deeper within—or even with him in his Inner Sanctum.

Though, as he realized what next room they were about to breach, a sense of mourning overtook him. They were about to enter the Studio—a birthplace of creation for all of his Priests, where works of art were proudly displayed. He didn’t want to face the fact of what would become of it if he was taken.  _ All the more important you fend them off yourself. _

He swapped into surveillance to the next room... and suppressed a gasp. His surprise was twofold—firstly, the Studio was far more  _ barren _ than he had remembered. Most, if not all of the smaller art pieces were gone, and even some of the more moderately sized ones seemed to have walked off. Did Maria organize everyone into lifting everything they could? The thought inspired a few conflicting emotions within him, but he didn’t have time to think over them, because secondly?

Two of his Priests were still in the room.

Jax practically leapt up from his spot as his first instinct. The twin Priests he identified as his seamstresses: Hestia and Demeter. They were as trained fighters as the rest of their sisters were, but the more important fact was that they were  _ still there. _ Why, he didn’t know, but every muscle in his body was screaming to rush through the Void and guard them from XCOM.

He watched as his sister lifted her shroud in front of them. The two Priests jumped and yelped, clutching each other. Even as they cowered, Demeter did her best to shield Hestia with her body... even if she was the one shaking more out of the two. XCOM entered the doors. Though initially caught off guard by the contents of the room, their eyes were quickly on what Fal-Mai was looking at, guns raised.

Jax had to do  _ something. _ He steeled himself, voice hard and commanding as he spoke. “XCOM. You and yours would not stoop so low as to fire upon a duo of unarmed  _ seamstresses _ , would you? Or have I underestimated the very depths your cowardice sinks to?”

There was a moment of silence as everyone considered the situation. Slowly,  _ Mordenna _ was the first to lower his gun. Fal-Mai held up a hand to call Menace off, and Eliza came in. “ _ Stand down, Menace. Those are unarmed combatants. _ ”

The rest of the squad followed suit, and Jax could see some relief enter Hestia and Demeter. Not much, of course, considering they were in the same room as XCOM and two other Chosen. Sherry was the first to talk after the Commander, walking a bit closer to the two Priests with her gun down. “ _ If you two are unarmed, what are you doing here? _ ”

“ _ I... _ ” Demeter’s voice was so quiet Jax could hardly hear her over surveillance. “ _ We... w-we left some of our t-tools behind and... _ ”

The implication was clear, but before Sherry could respond, Hestia spoke up. “ _ You’re... are you all going to slay our Holy Father? _ ”

Fal-Mai was the one to shake her head, kneeling down to their rough eye level. “ _ No, not at all. We are here to take our brother from the clutches of the Elders. We will not be harming him more than we have to. _ ”

Hestia and Demeter exchanged a glance, and then began talking amongst themselves. Jax dipped into their own comms to hear what they were saying. He caught Demeter in the middle of a sentence. “— _ seen what They have done to Warlock Tessura. If XCOM comes with him alive and bound through here once more... _ ”

“...  _ then it’s only natural, yes? _ ” Hestia followed up. “ _ Forgive me for my heresy, sister, but I would faster claim my true allegiance to the Holy Father. _ ”

“ _ It would only be heresy if I didn’t agree. So, is it decided? _ ”

“ _ It is. _ ”

The two turned back to Menace, knowingly looking to the Assassin. Fal-Mai nodded, standing up. Jax switched back just in time to hear her. “ _ We should leave them here. They are unarmed... and assuredly only looking for their tools. Unless there are concerns that they could mount a fearsome offence with statues and sewing needles... _ ”

Sherry looked between the two of them, and backed up. “ _ The Assassin’s right. Leave the Priests alone—worst comes to worst, we’ll detain them when we get back. _ ”

The squad began to move forward again. “ _ Would be nice to have some new duds, _ ” he could hear Rosa mutter. When they left the room, he could see Hestia and Demeter practically collapse against each other in relief, slumped against the wall they had been huddled against.

Now that XCOM wasn’t going to potentially slaughter more of his disciples, Jax found the time to reflect on what had just happened. Hestia and Demeter were speaking outright  _ heresy _ against the Elders. Their first allegiance should be to Them, not him. Yet here they were, undoubtedly going to join XCOM if Jax was captured.

Maria’s outspoken words. The missing art pieces. Hestia and Demeter’s plans. Jax had only grimly and facetiously offered the option of coming with him if he was captured, but from the looks of it? They had taken him seriously. Though a fear had steadily overtaken Jax, he could feel a pride in his followers welling up. They cared enough about him to defy the Elders and follow him to the ends of the Earth. Jax was now much happier at his decision to tell them to flee.

He stopped his self-reflection long enough to watch XCOM enter the room before his Ascension Pad. Mordenna looked  _ very _ concerned at the continued lack of armed forces. Before he could raise his concerns, Jax offered a final comment. “So, it has come down to this, XCOM. You would willingly throw yourselves at the Void just to have a taste of my power. If you are so set on your path, continue your advance. I shall be waiting.”

With that, Jax ducked out of the Network. Now that his eyes were freed up, he gave one last look over his Inner Sanctum. Twenty years, he had inhabited it. Built it up. Made it a home. Led countless sermons in its hallowed halls. Now, XCOM was coming to tear it all down. At the same time, he saw a light on his collar flicker to life. Seems it was now primed for the upcoming battle.

Jax took in a deep breath, the deepest he could muster. He would not go down without a fight. His pride would not allow it. If Cronus was watching, he would show Him the true might of what He had granted him. 

His psionics filled his gauntlets, ramped up by the amplifiers that were his horns. He let his power suffuse his body, coursing through his very veins. Then, he extended his mind outwards. Countless psionic ghosts inhabited his sanctum, years of conquests and inquisitions culminated. He summoned them, gave them form through his psionics, let them walk the Earth as husks once more, filled to the brim with volatile energies.

Then, he brought himself and his gauntlets into the floor in a kneel. An impenetrable Stasis formed around him, cutting off his air supply. His power lanced out, forming into much more clear bodies—Stun Lancers, Troopers, his mind’s eye even picked out an Officer and a Purifier, new additions to his Spectral Army’s ranks. They took their positions, mindful of his belongings, and waited.

Jax didn’t have to wait long. He could feel the very Void shudder with energy as his Ascension Pad was activated. To this day, he was sure it was one of the  _ warmest _ welcomes XCOM had ever received. 

XCOM suddenly found themselves in a  _ very _ disadvantageous position. SYN was the first to react, body shuddering as the blue lights across his body grew brighter, and he began rapidly firing upon Jax’s forces. The rest of the squad dove into cover, some of the humans taking a few hits from the ambush he had established. He watched as Mordenna opted instead to hold his ground, grinning. He whipped out his pistol, and as fast as Jax could move his consciousness, lights of his army were flickering out. Mordenna always had fancied a challenge.

As his numbers dwindled, Jax could feel his lungs starting to burn, and he summoned his willpower to force the urge to stop down. This was now or never, he couldn’t show that kind of weakness in front of Cronus  _ and _ XCOM. But the urge kept growing,  _ begging _ him to drop his Stasis so he could cough and breathe. More lights in his mind dimmed. The urge grew stronger.  _ No. _ He had to hold out a little longer, cause a little more damage—

He couldn’t. What remained of his Spectral Army disappeared and his Stasis dropped as Jax was wracked with a coughing fit. The sound of a few more of his constructs being put to final rest reached his ears over his hacking, and then? Silence. He was the only noise in his Inner Sanctum.

Eyes watering, he case them upwards as the fit started to subside. In XCOM’s faces, he could see  _ pity. _ Mordenna clearly had a shot lined up, but the  _ hesitation _ on his face spoke thousands of words. Not only that, but Mordenna didn’t seem to be looking him in the eye—he seemed to be focused on something just under his face. Petulance and rage rose up in Jax. He stood to his full height, no longer plagued by his lungs as he let his psionics flow. “Do  _ not _ humiliate me with your misbegotten pity!”

With that rage, he cast forth a Mind Scorch, linking off of Rosa and Sherry’s heads as they slumped to the ground. The energy jumped to the Seer—and now, Jax could see why XCOM had a new Templar to bear against him. Above her, cloaked in purple, was a psionic mass of tentacles and featureless faces. Its shuddering limbs coiled around the Seer’s head—and judging by the way Mordenna’s eyes followed, he could see it too. The wall of psionics deflected his own powers. Jax had, once before, seen the specter that hung over Cronus. Could mere mortals also possess this power?

He wasn’t given long to think over it. Over the momentary quiet of battle, Jax could’ve sworn he hallucinated a “sorry” from Mordenna. There was a momentary, splitting pain in his chest, and then nothingness.

Jax could feel his very soul being pulled backwards, into the awaiting arms of the Void. He watched through the plane, his body being teleported out and with him into the soft, shuddering area. He took one look at it and grimaced. The caliber on Mordenna’s bullets was  _ overkill, _ to say the least.

Cronus’s orchestra was deadly low as He regarded Jax and his tortured body. “So. You would have no other forces to defend you. Not even the Priests I  _ dared _ grant to you out of goodwill.”

Terror and dread became Jax. In lieu of saying anything, he merely inclined his head. He had hoped Cronus would understand... but it would seem his efforts were for naught. Cronus was disappointed, and this disappointment was likely the last he would know of Him.

Jax could feel his in-depth connection with the Void shuddering and cracking. XCOM were undoubtedly firing upon his Sarcophagus. His time with the Elders, one way or another, was drawing to a close.

With a magnificent, but restrained gesture, Cronus used the energy in the area to piece together his body again. “ _ Go. _ May you remember your failure in your final moments.”

Wait. Final moments? Mordenna said something over comms but Jax couldn’t even process what he said. Despite what he knew was best, Jax found himself speaking. “Father, what—”

He wasn’t given any time to finish. The Void lurched and Jax could feel some deep part of himself shattering and darkening. With a nearly nausea-inducing force, he was pulled from his place, united mid-flight with his healed body.

Jax found himself almost stumbling over on one of the pads in his room, flung back into the world of the living. He didn’t have any time to figure out what was going on or what he should be doing before the collar on his neck emitted a high-pitched whine.

One thing he  _ could _ understand was Mordenna’s almost panicked shout. “ _ Fal-Mai,  _ **_now!!_ ** ”

Suddenly, he saw Fal-Mai racing towards him, sword brandished. Was this the final moments Cronus was referring to? Did He know that XCOM had intended death for him all along? What had Cronus meant?

So caught up was he in his thoughts, that Jax didn’t even react. Fal-Mai’s sword swung upwards—and cut through the connector on his collar, as well as grazing his neck a bit. Before it could fall, she was grabbing the device and hurling it with as much force as she could muster to the side.

Mere seconds later, the collar  _ exploded. _

A bomb collar. Cronus had put a bomb collar on him.  _ His final moments. _ Cronus had not made him a device of goodwill. He had made him a possessive shackle. Between the choice of His Son living in captivity and dying unknowingly... He had chosen the latter.

Jax couldn’t process much else. He felt as if he wasn’t even connected to his body, merely watching events happen as a passive observer. It wasn’t him who looked just off to the side as the Void surged, and Cronus’s energies overloaded his Sarcophagus, shattering it into pieces. Mordenna approached him and said something, but it wasn’t Jax who numbly followed as he was pushed by the shoulder.

There was a commotion behind him. Someone was speaking indignantly. He was sure there was a question asked of him but he understood nothing of it, and he simply shook his head. The Void was nothing to him as they all proceeded through the Ascension Pad and into the Stronghold.

Was Cronus so willing to sentence him to death? Was he really better off dead than captured? Did He hold out no hope that one day, he could be rescued?

Jax couldn’t think on it. They went through his Studio, and the voices of Hestia and Demeter reached his ears, but they, too, could not be understood. He mindlessly walked as he was guided. He could hear the two of them ask him a question, of what, he didn’t know. Jax just shook his head again.

They kept walking, more footsteps joining them. The scenery of the Stronghold blurred past him as he felt his feet shuffle, one foot in front of the other, one step at a time. Mordenna was muttering something, though if he was speaking to Jax or not... he didn’t know. He didn’t know anything anymore. He had thought he had everything cleanly understood. The explosion wracked his memory again and he could feel himself take in a shuddering breath. Mordenna moved his hand to his arm and squeezed.

_ Why. _ Cronus was his Father. Why would He sentence him to death? Why would He lie to him about what He had placed upon Him?

What would have happened if Mordenna had not seemingly spied the device’s true intention?

Vaguely, he registered the blown-out remains of his foyer. He was led through the hole that was his front door, where the Skyranger was parked on the ground. Mordenna guided him inside and sat him down in one of the two seats closest to the cockpit. Though he stared straight ahead at his brother, Jax couldn’t say he was looking at him. Something far, far beyond him, beyond this realm.

The latch closed. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Hestia and Demeter in the seats beside them. Once again, they tried to speak to him, but he was lost to them.

The godlike hand of an Elder had sentenced Jax to death, and Jax wished he had died.


	25. Wounded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Commander talks with the Warlock, and facilitates a reunion.

How long had it been?

Jax was slumped against the far corner of his cell, sitting on what he could only assume was the “bed.” His eyes were unfocused, vaguely staring at one of the corners in the ceiling. The only thing keeping him from hugging himself for comfort were the shackles on his hands, and his psionics felt much lesser without his horns.

The panel on the wall displayed a time in the military standard—but Jax couldn’t be certain if it was accurate or even true. He couldn’t be sure of anything, anymore. Cronus had intended for him to die. His siblings, the ones he was told would conspire against him, had saved his life. Now, he was apparently aboard the Commander’s vessel. Caught in a limbo, a hell of nothingness. Only him and his thoughts, and the terrible, terrible reality he was now forced to face.

If not the Elders to look after him, then who? He... admittedly, loved his Priests. But he was unsure if they were even here now. Hestia and Demeter... were in the plane with him, he thought. He could swear they were sitting next to him. But, of Maria...? His chest ached with a mournful hollowness. Jax didn’t know what he’d do without Maria. She was his constant companion and source of comfort, tailor-made to suit him. A life without her would be a far bleaker one, if it wasn’t already.

What would he do, now? He was captured. There was no salvation to be had with the Elders, anymore. As Cronus had decreed death, assuredly the others had been made known of his failing. What was he to do, join XCOM? If his whole body didn’t feel so numb, Jax might’ve actually laughed. The notion was absurd, and yet... he had nowhere else to turn. If Hestia and Demeter were with XCOM, as he had gotten from their scheming, it was a solid reason. It was that, or remain in his cell for the foreseeable future. He just... had some troubles about working with XCOM. He didn’t know  _ why. _ Perhaps some part of him was still holding out hope.

_ The Elders looked after you for twenty years. It is only your own fault that you are now in this situation. If you had held your tongue with Cronus, He would be moving the very stars to seek you. _

Jax lidded his eyes, and a dull pain in his chest permeated the numbness. Yes. If he hadn’t been uncouth with Cronus, he wouldn’t be as he was, now. Cronus would still look upon him favorably. He would have reason to stay in his cell and admit nothing. He had failed the Elders, and he only had himself to blame. It had all been well, until Jax began to question it. If he had just left himself to believe in the Elders unquestioningly, as he had always known... he could sit here for hours, facing himself with the “ifs.” The conditions that would give him a clear reason to not work with XCOM.

_ Is further disgracing yourself in Their eyes not enough? _ Well, it wasn’t as if he could get any lower than Father latching a bomb unto him. Even now, recounting it made Jax shudder and draw in on himself.  _ Why. _ That was the one question he kept returning to. He knew why but  _ why? _ What would move a being so noble and selfless before to such cruelty?  _ He could only stand your incompetence for so long. There is infinite patience, but no such thing as infinite tolerance. _ His brother proved that much.

_ Mordenna. _ Mordenna had every reason to not call out the collar. Sure, Jax assumed the mission’s purpose was to capture him. But Jax knew Mordenna... or, thought he did, anyhow. The Hunter would have left the Warlock to die. So Jax believed. Instead, he organized his sister into sparing his life.  _ Saving _ it. What had happened, in the months he had been gone? The only insight he had was the ghost of one of Mordenna’s telltale  _ episodes, _ and the fact that he was still alive certainly brought some questions. Dare he think his brother might be becoming a better person? Certainly he was trusted enough to go on a mission with Fal-Mai.

That last thought left Jax with both an incredible loneliness and the numbness, once again. The numbness he could understand, but this feeling of longing? For his  _ brother? _ Jax was almost certain there was something wrong with him, if there wasn’t already. Under the Elders, the three saw fit to fight with each other, and Jax had a distaste for both of his siblings. Mordenna was a slacker, keen to mouth off to the Elders and neglect his duties as much as possible while picking fights with Fal-Mai and Jax. Fal-Mai was young, naive, and single-sighted in her purpose under the Elders. Struggling with emotions she had been told not to feel. Why, now? Why did he feel some urge to speak with them?  _ Masochism, perhaps. _ The word echoed in Father’s voice and Jax shuddered.

Fully withdrawn on himself and balled up as much as he could manage, Jax closed his eyes. Sleep... was difficult. Only if he was well and truly relaxed. But he had to try. Anything was preferable to being left alone.  _ A fear of being alone. How childish are you? _ Had he ever been allowed to grow up? He was twenty years older, but some things crept upon him still.

A sound that wasn’t the ever-present, deep thrum of the ship made Jax jump, eyes shooting open. Across from him, the door to his cell had opened, and in stepped the Commander herself. She was... far more earthly, than Jax had expected. Yet, there was a certain uncanniness to her features. She was over fifty, was she not? Where were the age lines to her face? Why was her skin still so taut? Even stranger was the  _ eccentricness _ of her signature. Soft... so soft. More of a soft hum than any instrument he was used to.  _ Light blue. _

Her eyes locked with his, and she offered a gentle smile. “Jax.”

He merely gave a soft noise in reply. The numbness was still there, and he didn’t want to speak. He almost wanted to  _ pout. _ Outside of his usual disgust for his childlike tendencies, something else stopped him. Eliza’s smile seemed genuine, and he would be lying if he said he didn’t associate her voice with one of authority and knowledge. Twenty years of consultation on the Network colored his hearing of her.

Eliza took her spot, sitting down across from him, giving him plenty of space. Now, he could see there was a remote in her hands, which she placed on the floor. Some part of him suggested overpowering her and taking it... but to what end? Cronus had already wanted him dead. Presenting the Commander would bring momentary praise... and then annihilation. Besides, he could not teleport even if he wanted to—the familiar feeling in his being he would always call upon for longer travel was gone. With his Sarcophagus, went his long-distance teleportation.

“I... know this is a silly question,” she began softly, “but I’ll ask anyway because I care. Are you alright, Jax?”

He lidded his eyes again, pulling his knees closer and hiding the bottom half of his face behind them.  _ Hiding! Like a coward. _ He was  _ scared. _ Jax was somewhere he didn’t like, with no comfort, nobody else with him, and no clue what he could do.  _ Yes. _ He was upset. Figuring that was his answer, he shook his head.

Eliza looked pretty somber at that, fidgeting with her hands. Well, what  _ was _ she supposed to say to that? It wasn’t like he was going to give her a verbal answer. Still she made a good effort. “Jax, I want to help any way I can. If you’d let me, we can talk if you want.”

Talking. What good would talking do at this point? He knew where he had failed. He knew  _ why _ he had failed. There was nothing more to lament about it than to gripe for griping’s sake. He did not want to speak—he wanted his Priests.

Thinking about it... Eliza likely had Hestia and Demeter on the ship. Maybe more of his followers, if he wanted to believe the hope that they had approached XCOM afterwards. If Eliza was not being facetious about her want to help, could he not ask for them? Though, that would involve mustering up the will to speak...

Jax closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath. He just needed one word. Hopefully Eliza would understand. “... Maria.”

It took a moment, but Eliza responded. “Do you want me to bring your Archbishop in?”

Was it true? Did the Commander have Maria on the ship? From the way she worded it, it seemed to be the case. The numbness that suffused his being seemed to lighten a bit, and he nodded. He could hear Eliza shifting around, likely getting up. “Central, send the Archbishop over to the Chosen Holding Cells. Room three. Have her open the door.” A pause. “I’ll stay in here with you, Jax.”

As much as Jax wanted to say he didn’t care if Eliza left or stayed... it was untrue. Eliza was  _ company, _ and he didn’t want to be alone in here. He opened his eyes again, studying Eliza more. She was awfully tall, for a human female. Jax wondered if that had anything to do with the modifications Argus put upon her. He hadn’t known the extent—he’d managed a conversation with Them once, and it was about all he got. Eliza remained standing, obviously trying not to stare him down in the silence.

If he were in a better mood, he might make more conversation. As it stood, all he could do was look down and hug his legs as much as he could with his shackles on. Maria would be here soon. As much as he brushed off talking earlier, talking to  _ her _ would soothe him.

It was a bit of waiting, but eventually Jax heard the door open, and he chanced sitting up. Ducking under the door was Maria... helmetless. Jax could now see the structure of her face. The crest of her head and strong jaw alluded to her Berserker heritage, but the two tentacle-like bumps on the top of her head, three bolts going along the middle of her scalp, and orange, detailed eyes belied her Gatekeeper strain. There were mechanical fasteners going along the length of her jaw—one of the Skirmishers must’ve helped her get her helmet off.

Maria looked... dignified. Magnificent. Jax had once balked at the idea of any of his congregation taking their helmets off, but Maria proved his fears were unfounded. Their eyes met and Maria stalled, for just a moment. Not a very long moment; she was soon rushing towards him, ignoring Eliza completely. She practically dove into him and wrapped him in a hug, himself leaning into it and burying his face into her.

“M-my Chosen, I’m—I’m sorry, please forgive me, if I had known  _ that _ was what Cronus had granted you—”

Jax sucked in a breath through his teeth at the recent memory, numbness fading as he leaned against Maria. Maria delved into more apologies and squeezed him close. He wasn’t surprised that Maria had found out what had happened. He was sure that word of it spread quickly—and his Priests, if nothing else, knew how to share the news. That didn’t matter to him so much now. Maria was  _ here. _ Jax wasn’t alone. He had someone who would comfort him.

The more the mist lifted, the more Jax  _ hurt, _ and it felt more and more like his chest was trying to rip itself open. He tried, with all his might, to hold it back. Eliza was still in the room. If she hadn’t been privy to his and his sister’s encounter out in the field, he didn’t want to have the Commander of XCOM see him like this. He was the Chosen Warlock! Bastion of strength, pillar of fortitude and psionic prowess. Dignity incarnate.

That didn’t seem to matter to his emotions so much. His chest heaved. Jax choked back a sob, and his eyes watered.  _ No. _ Weakness. Why must he show such weakness? If he had not been weak, if he had not  _ questioned _ Cronus, he would not be in this situation. His chest ached and he sobbed again, hiding his face against Maria.

Suddenly, he could feel the cuffs over his gauntlets open. There was a brief moment where he wondered as to why—a very brief moment. Shucking off his shackles, he wrapped his arms tightly around Maria. Perhaps Eliza had expressed pity for his condition and allowed him this. Whatever the case, this certainly felt a lot better, even if the physical expression was just bringing on more tears.

Jax took a solid while to just cry against Maria, voice muffled against her armor. The thought of the Commander being there quickly slipped from his mind and he gave himself a moment to  _ grieve. _ Maria’s Solace had washed over him in short order and he willingly accepted it. It hurt, so much, but being able to vent like this was helping.

Eventually, Jax found himself calming down. Though his tears still flowed, he wasn’t sobbing anymore, and the pain in his chest was down to a dull ache. Jax indulged himself a bit more in his self-pity before wiping at his eyes, sighing. Before he could muster up the words to speak, Maria looked over her shoulder. “Thank you, Commander. It’s... very good of you to allow this.”

“Far be it from me to let him suffer,” came the soft reply. “He’s less ‘prisoner’ than ‘refugee,’ anyhow. The cuffs... were more of a formality.”

Maria nodded at that. Jax, himself, mulled over Eliza’s words. He could understand, having to keep up appearances on someone like him. If they were to simply allow him to walk the ship, even after a tragedy like his and with his allegiance unannounced... the backlash would be strong. Still didn’t make the prospect of sitting alone in a cell any nicer, but that led him to another line of thought.

Though Jax didn’t want to reveal his no doubt blotchy face and orange-tinged eyes to the Commander, he at least lifted his face from Maria so his words wouldn’t be muffled. He took it slowly and calmly, so he wouldn’t stutter or trip over himself. “Commander. Am I right to assume you will be trying to recruit me into your ranks?”

“That’s correct, though I didn’t want to impose the question  _ this _ early, considering...” Eliza cleared her throat. “I really had just wanted to check in on you. Isn’t right to leave you in solitary confinement like this. Wish we had built the cells differently, but how was I supposed to...” Eliza trailed off for a moment, then continued. “I was going to approach it later, when things weren’t so hot as they are.”

Jax would give the Commander that—she had some basic consideration within her. Indeed; how was she supposed to predict something like this? He took in a deep breath, deciding if he wanted to approach what he would next. “—what would this prospect entail?”

“Joining XCOM, for one,” she began. “Basic respect and support for what we do is a must. It’s the ability to fight alongside a force that looks after itself, members that care what happens to each other. I’d also like to claim that it has  _ leaders _ that care what happens beneath them. Who are willing to spare those who don’t want to fight anymore, and will look after those who want to fight for us. No man is an island unto himself—people need support. I’m happy to give it.”

Rather nobly-spoken, but Jax didn’t expect much less from someone who had organized a resistance for this long. It wasn’t as if he had anywhere left to turn—he didn’t think in the slightest that the Commander would let him go even if it was to forge out on his own.  _ Need you be reminded as to why you’re in this situation? _

He blew some air out of his nose. Even if he had wanted to join up right there and then, his mind and his pride wasn’t exactly allowing him to. Not without  _ some _ resistance, at least, even if it was just token.

Maria was warm. Jax didn’t want to stay in this cell forever. He wanted to see his Priests, and he didn’t want to be alone. “—I will consider this for a few days... a timespan that might go faster if my Priests are allowed to visit me.”

Eliza gave a single chuckle. “I’ll keep that in mind—though, excuse me for saying you could see them all the time if you wanted if you joined up.”

_ Very _ tempting. But, Jax had already stated what he wanted to do. Going back, even with a proposition like that, would further humiliate him. “My statement stands.”

A pause, presumably Eliza nodding. “For standard’s sakes, I’ll have to have someone chaperone the visits. They don’t have to necessarily be inside the room—but someone has to supervise. And the cuffs...” She sighed. “I’m going to have a talk with Bradford about taking them off entirely. Can I trust you with that?”

“Of course,” he murmured. “I would not harm you, Commander, or anyone under you. Suffice to say, I could not smuggle you off of this vessel, either. Then there is the fact that, by how you have spoken, you have taken in my Priests. I would not jeopardize their own safety for a petty grudge or anything of the sort.”

“Good to hear. And, you’d be right. Helps that we’ve got space in extra rooms and the ones who didn’t want to fight were alright with picking up odd jobs. Have to admit, seeing a whole body of Priests—and other ADVENT soldiers, I noticed—approach Menace made me fear for them for a moment.”

_ Everyone. _ His Priests’ numbers had dwindled over twenty years, and he hadn’t had the heart to replace them. He could certainly see who was left—including his new squad—fitting onto the Avenger. They were all here. He... really didn’t have any reason to go back, now. The Elders, assuredly, no longer wanted him. His personnel were here. So were his siblings...

With a deep breath, he responded. “I am... very glad to hear you were able to take in my congregation. I will admit—I would not have, before, expected XCOM to take in my numbers willingly. But you have proven yourself a surprising force, Commander. If they need it... they have my expressed permission to work with XCOM.”

“Got it. Some of them  _ did _ have hang ups about that. I’ll spread the word. Outside of that... that was about all I had. If the two of you want to catch up, be my guest. Though...” She sighed. “I hate to continue imposing, but  _ someone’s _ gotta authorize the door open request, and it’s currently print-locked. Plus, until I clear it with Bradford, we’ve got to keep the cuffs on you, Jax.”

“Understood. I would hardly expect XCOM to allow myself to prance about, unbound.” Jax gave a “hmph.” “Even if it  _ would _ be in the bounds of my own cell.”

“You and me both, big guy,” Eliza responded, apparently concurring with his minor musing.

With that, he tilted his head to look up at Maria. The area around her own eyes seemed a bit puffy, as if she had been caught up in her own mourning. Unable to maintain eye contact out of self-awkwardness, Jax’s head thumped against her chest. “You must think me  _ weak, _ ” he uttered, voice low enough that he was sure only Maria could hear him.

“Nonsense,” she shot back at the same volume, “for you to have withstood what you did makes me think you are stronger than I ever will be. A lesser being would have succumbed under the weight of what you have been through. Jax...” Maria paused a moment, letting his name hang. It was only in rare moments did she ever speak just his first name. “The Elders wronged you. That is the simple truth of the matter. No caring being would have done all of what they did to you.”

Maria’s continued speaking out against the Elders was strange to hear. Then again... after his initial punishment, she had seemed more... distant, with Them. Less willing to speak praises of Them, and not much need be said of her behavior after he was punished a second time. Even in his inner circle... were the Elders...?

He couldn’t approach the thought. Not yet. Too much had happened at once, today, and he just wished to rest. But, he wanted Maria here a little longer, too, and thought of questions to ask. “—what of your sisters and brothers? Are they faring well?”

Maria nodded, a hand running over his hair. “Yes. Their concern for you is mounting, but I will tell them that you will be fine. What Cronus did has put them in an uproar, and Jeanne has expressed the wish to fight alongside XCOM to deliver justice on your behalf.”

“She has my permission to do so.” He was silent, for a moment. “... she will probably be one of the next I ask for. Iris, Hestia, Demeter, Odette, Bastet...” His voice dropped further, almost entirely a baritone hum. “I do not know what I would do without them, Maria. Without  _ you. _ This world would be far bleaker without you and yours in it. I... want all of you to thrive. And it is clear to me, this much at least, that it would not happen within ADVENT.”

“Of course. We care so much about you, my Chosen.” Maria squeezed him. “You are our Holy Father. Our guiding light. Our tender shepherd. To see you suffer hurts us all. Our place is not with ADVENT—it is with  _ you. _ We will follow where you go, call home what you call home. I speak for all of my sisters and myself when I say we  _ love _ you.”

_ Love. _ The kind of love that did not sting, did not leave him asking  _ why, _ did not make him fearful of it being taken away. The kind of love that soothed him, comforted him, and offered him a listening ear whenever he needed it. The pain from earlier faded, replaced by a warm glow in his chest. He renewed his hug on Maria. “... and I love you as well, Maria. Your sisters and brothers as well. It is the least you deserve out of me.”

He could feel Maria’s Solace reverberate with her joy. “It overjoys me to hear you say that, Jax. I am here for you.  _ We _ are here for you. I know you have already stated that you will wait, but...” She smiled very warmly. “It will be good to see you out of this cell.”

It would be good, indeed. Jax didn’t feel as if he would wait very long. His Priests... come to think of it, they were not so much “Priests” anymore. Their allegiance to XCOM wiped them of their dealings with ADVENT. Maria was not his Archbishop anymore. They all needed new monikers, something emblematic of their new home and life.

After a moment of thinking, he lifted his head from Maria’s chest. “Maria. I have a duty for you. As my path seems to eventually align with XCOM’s and away from ADVENT... it is time all of you adopt new titles. I do not imagine XCOM will favor calling you and yours by your old designations, anyhow.” Gently, as if scared he would hurt her, Jax brought up a hand and placed it on her shoulder. “You, Maria... are now the Matriarch. The head of your brothers and sisters, and rightful leader with me. Jeanne is your Centurion. Your sisters—Mystics. Briareos—” the Shieldbearer, “—your Guardsman. The Purifiers, the Phoenixes, and the Troopers, the Seekers. Thus into this new life, let all of you stride.”

She nodded. “I will commit this to heart, my Chosen. I will let them know shortly. And...” She hugged Jax close again. “Thank you. For you to consider me as leading  _ with _ you... it will be a while before I fully acclimate to being your equal, but the gesture is beyond words.”

Jax leaned against her once more, the soft pride in his chest continuing to soothe him. He was so, very proud of his own. They had made it this far, followed him into XCOM... and cared for him, so much. He could only hope he would return the favor.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence... comfortable, right up until Jax remembered Eliza was in the room. Hopefully, at their volume, the Commander should have heard nothing of their conversation. It wasn’t as if he did not trust her, but... she was a relative outsider to his affairs. It was between him and his inner circle.

Maria was the first to break it, remaining at their private conversation volume. “Would you have anything else of me, Holy Father?”

Jax sighed, and shook his head. “As much as I would wish you to stay further... you have news to impart. I would not have my disciples worry much longer. Thank you, my Matriarch.”

Maria gave him one last squeeze, then parted from him, standing up and turning to Eliza. “I am ready to leave, Commander. We have exchanged our words.”

The Commander straightened, nodding to her. “Alright. I’ll let you out, here.” With that, she went over to the panel on the wall and tapped a button. The door slid open, and with one last smile towards Jax, Maria departed. That left him with Eliza, who turned towards him as the door closed. “Anything else you want to speak to me about, Jax?”

Looking over at his discarded cuffs, Jax mulled it over. As much as he didn’t want to be alone, the Commander was... the  _ Commander. _ Nebulous. All of his interactions with her had been the twenty years of consultation and the occasional banter on the field. He had felt  _ envious _ of her. Perhaps he still did. Knowing that, not matter how hard she struggled against Them, the Elders would always try to secure her alive? He somewhat longed to be as coveted as she was—even if his place, now, seemed to be away from Them.

But, the more he thought of it? He would not fancy being in her position. Yes, it was one of utmost importance—but to be immobile for twenty years? To, upon the twentieth, be prepared for Ascension? Jax vaguely remembered his Ascension. Taken young. The psionic horrors. The strain migraines. He would not wish that upon the Commander, even if Argus’s methods seemed to be different.

Something struck him as a means of conversation, brought on by earlier thoughts. “—you proclaim yourself a caring leader, Commander. If my brother’s sudden change in behavior is anything meaningful, there seems to be weight to that statement. But can you claim to level with those who need it yourself?”

“Absolutely,” she responded with certainty. “It was only through personal talks that I got both of your siblings to my side—and continue to have them there.” Her face softened, and she gestured towards Jax. “All of you deserve someone who cares about you deeply. Personally... I’m glad you have Maria. It looks like she means a lot to you.”

“More than ‘a lot,’ Commander. Were she to leap into the fires of the Pit with confidence, I would feel emboldened to follow her. She has been with me almost ever since my Ascendance.”

Eliza smiled. “Mark me as very glad, then. I’ll still offer you what I did your siblings—someone to bring up your problems with, ask for advice, and all else fails? A shoulder to cry on. I want to be there and help out, Jax. It’s why I came in today—I would’ve waited to ask about you joining us if you hadn’t brought it up.”

Jax nodded slowly, leaning against the wall. Though he initially thought the offer redundant... the more Jax thought on it, the more merit he gave it. He would be fighting  _ under _ Eliza if he were to join XCOM, no? The chance to have a caring leader, one he could bring up his personal grievances with and not fear for rebuke, one he could seek out for his grief with the Elders and find a like mind? The temptation to join XCOM immediately was a strong as ever. But, Jax steeled his resolve. “—that was my only inquiry, Commander. Allow me enough time to think on your offer.”

“Five days?”

“Five days. I trust the clock on the pad is accurate?”

“Sure is. Though—the Avenger runs on its own time. Still 24 hours to a day, but due to how we tend to pinball all over the place? We run on our own cycle. Regardless, time passes the same.”

He waved it off. “So long as ‘five days’ will continue to be ‘five days,’ it is merely semantics.”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “I suppose that’s a good take.” Her jovial mood died down a bit, however, as she looked to the cuffs. “—sadly, I’m going to have to cuff you again, big guy. I might stop in early if Bradford clears you being unbound, but otherwise?”

He got the implication. Musing on the nickname “big guy,” Jax picked up his cuffs and offered them to her. Once she took them, he respectfully presented his wrists, and Jax got a better look at Eliza. Her uniform was mildly thick—though even through it, Jax could see the hints of a well-maintained physique beneath. Her hands were even a little rough—perhaps she was not out in the field as her soldiers were, but Eliza seemed to be keeping herself in shape. Were those scars on her knuckles, as well? It all came together to give her a more human quality, offsetting her unnatural youth. He could certainly respect a leader who kept themselves in prime form, at the very least.

His inspection was interrupted by the cuffs sliding back into place, and Eliza stepping back. “Got you all kitted up now. I’ll head out—there’s a button on the pad if you want to call me early for any reason. You take care, and I’ll ask around your group about visits, alright?”

Jax nodded. “Of course, Commander.”

Eliza gave him a thumbs up and turned towards the door. It opened and shut, and Jax was left alone once again.


	26. Forge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> XCOM arrives at the Forge Facility.

Mordenna had to admit, Bradford was kind of a blast when he got right down to it.

Here he was, leaning over the Holodeck, grinning at a distinctly miffed Bradford, drumming his fingers and making the projection of the globe distort slightly. Debating with Bradford... wasn’t  _ as _ fun as the debates with Eliza he had done while she was still in the Elder’s drunk tank, but it was still damn good.

Case in point! “So  _ you’re _ telling me that your only proof of time being more than just a construct is just what you’ve been told? You ain’t ever gotten out a tool of your choice and actually tried to measure its passage on anything that isn’t automated?”

Bradford gestured exasperatedly. “ _ Sundials _ have got to count for that—”

“Ah, ah, ah!” Mordenna waggled his finger. “Sundials only measure the rotation of the Earth on its axis! Which would happen  _ regardless _ of some arbitrary number ticking upwards. What’s to say that we all aren’t merely experiencing the sequence the universe has set in motion, but  _ reverse? _ How does your little theory of time hold up then? Space exists, sure, but time’s a boring concept you lot came up with just to tide yourselves over.”

Bradford groaned, pressing a hand to his forehead. “Can’t  _ believe _ I’m debating with a purple beanpole over whether  _ time _ exists... if time doesn’t exist, then why do the Elders date their logs at all, huh?”

“Oh,  _ please, _ don’t use them as some kind of defense for your argument, John. It’s practically bad form.” He shook his head, still grinning. “They’re  _ idiots. _ Time, as a concept, may be uniform across civilizations, but it’s fake! Much like organized calendars, you lot decided to fabricate a concept based on the rotation of your little planet around the Sun.”

“If it’s so  _ fake _ then why do you refer to it?”

Mordenna shrugged. “Convenience, mostly.”

“I’d argue that  _ convenience _ is a damn good reason for it to exist.”

“As a  _ concept. _ ”

Right then, Eliza entered the Bridge. Bradford turned to her and pointed at Mordenna. “ _ Eliza. _ Please tell the Hunter that time exists.”

Well, that was quite the statement to walk in on. Eliza looked between the two of them and shortly began to laugh. Bradford kneaded his temples and Mordenna just grinned further. Eliza was a real card. That laugh certainly added to it... as much as it made him want to beat down his Id with a stick.  _ Chill, me. _

She recovered, left with a smile from her laughter. “Oh, what’s your argument, Mordenna? ‘Time doesn’t truly exist and is merely a concept made by humans?’”

“Yes! See, Bradford, she understands.”

“Doesn’t mean she  _ agrees, _ ” he grumbled.

Eliza put a hand on her hip. “So. What’s the evidence for your theory?”

“Obvious. There’s no quantifiable amount of ‘time’ that can be measured by any instrument  _ anyone _ has crafted—”

“No. That’s evidence  _ against _ time existing. Where’s the evidence for your alternative theory?”

Mordenna blinked. “Liz, the alternative theory  _ is _ the lack of time’s existence.”

“Ok. Where’s your proof? Where’s your thesis? Where is your research document, thirty page minimum, twelve point font, preferably submitted and on my desk by Monday? All  _ you’ve _ got for your argument is words. The evidence for time existing is there. It may not be a quantifiable  _ amount _ , but not everything in the universe is. Can’t quantify emotions, after all.”

“Now that is just a filthy lie, Commander.” He shook his head, preferring to latch onto the last part of her argument. “Emotions are merely measured chemical doses from the brain that tell us how we feel.”

“Is that so?” She pointed at him firmly. “Are you trusting the chemical reactions in your brain to tell you that they are mere chemical reactions? Are you going to base your observations on something you cannot quantify without bias? Here I thought you were  _ against _ time existing, Mordenna.”

The Hunter straight up stopped. He almost felt as if his brain was hanging on a single command execution, something that had stopped up his whole system. When the haze broke, he burst out laughing, trying and failing to hold back a snort within it as he doubled over. Over his own laughter, he could hear Bradford and Eliza chuckling together.

He caught his breath and stood up from his mild hunch. “God, Commander, you are a  _ riot. _ I’ll give you that one because you made me laugh.”

She held up her hands. “Happy to tango anytime, as always.  _ Now. _ ” She stepped further up to the Holodeck, tapping on her datapad. Soon, the display changed to a reasonable reconstruction of the Forge. “Onto what we’re actually here about. As we speak, we are currently approaching our landing site so we may infiltrate the Forge. From there, we will be doing an on-grounds inspection and seeing if there’s anything we need to leave with, like last time. All else fails, we destroy the compound and put the Elders back further on their progress.”

“That’s the long and short of it,” Bradford replied, nodding. “As it stands, we just need to assemble the team together for it.”

“Considering we’re on the heels of Operation Last Coffin,” Eliza changed the display to a roster, “we’re effectively running with the B team.”

“B team plus  _ me, _ ” Mordenna was quick to add. “Never bothered to look at the Forge myself. Would you mind helping me address that?”

Eliza nodded, and an entry for him popped up on the list. “Noted. Do you think Fal-Mai is good for the mission?”

“After what happened? Yeah. She’s angry and probably needs someone to take it out on.” Not to mention how quietly furious  _ Mordenna _ was. It wasn’t so much that Cronus put a bomb on  _ Jax _ ... ok, maybe it was a little bit of that, but it was moreover just another shitty maneuver that told him how shit the Elders continued to be. A message that clearly stated that if Cronus couldn’t have Jax? No one could. God  _ forbid _ he think of alternative methods. If he hadn’t spotted the make of the connector in time...

“Understood. I’ll pencil her in.” Eliza’s voice interrupted his thoughts and he focused back on the conversation. Fal-Mai appeared on the registry. “I made sure to do my usual scouting around the troops and Mary was ready to go, so she’ll be our support.”

“Gonna be some heavy firepower there,” Mordenna muttered, mostly to himself. “The Forge is pretty important, though I can’t say I remember why.” He was penning the Network Severance Effect as soon as he could grab Tygan’s ear about it. He  _ did _ remember a few details about the Avatar project, but... best spared for another time, and not right at the moment.

Bradford looked up at him. “SYN’s back online...”

Getting the message, Eliza nodded. “And I know Rosa can always take more time with him.” The two of them joined the list, leaving one slot empty. She looked between the two of them. “Close range and scouting, long range, heavy support, SPARK, and medic. Usually I’d pen a PsiOp in here but Clint’s only freshly awake and Leo...”

Bradford grimly nodded. Mordenna knew what Eliza was on about—taking a direct hit from the Disruption Rifle was never pretty for a psion. Last he’d heard, Leo was still experiencing psionic “soreness.” Mordenna darkly considered he might’ve done  _ too _ well of a job, there. Though, something occurred to him and he spoke up. “Far be it from me to suggest something useful, but I’d say set Maria on him. If he’s still out after this long, either I did a bang-up job or it’s not going to heal naturally. Jax’s Archbishop is an expert at healing through her own psionics. Given she was designed for my brother, I don’t think it’s a stretch to say it extends to other psionics.”

Eliza looked fairly impressed, which gave Mordenna some satisfaction. “Good to know, Mordenna. I’ll talk with her over it.”

“Good advice,” Bradford said, looking at the empty slot on the list, “but sadly it doesn’t fix our current problem.”

“Right.” Eliza looked there, too. “Think we should split up the Twins for this?”

“Actually, I don’t think you have to do that at all.”

Though Mordenna spotted her coming, he didn’t blame Bradford and Eliza for being surprised when Wiki zipped into their plane of existence. She’d recently gotten a paint job—what was orange before was now a mix of blues, even having adjusted the formerly red glow of her “brain” to a sky blue. She took her place at the side of the Holodeck nobody was occupying. “Sorry to barge in, but I overheard and I couldn’t help myself.”

“Good to see you, Wiki.” Eliza inclined her head towards her. “How’s the integration with the Shadow Chamber?”

“Smooth as ever. I already gave her props, but your Chief Engineer can certainly make some user-friendly design.”

“Oh,  _ what, _ ” Mordenna interjected, “you didn’t like the hostile code of the ADVENT Network?”

Wiki’s eye-lights rolled. “ _ Please. _ We’ve been over this.” She gestured back to Eliza, resuming the topic. “I’ve began aggregating all the old world knowledge I can, as we agreed, as well as safely defragmenting one of my downed Codex buddies regarding what she knows. I’ve also added my own processing power to your systems, so everything  _ should _ be running faster.”

Bradford nodded. “I noticed that. Things are running a bit smoother thanks to you.”

“Naturally. But, yes, I’m here for a reason.” Wiki pointed to the last spot on the list, the projection glitching a bit at the action. “I’d like to fill up that last slot. Lest you forget, I’m good for battle, and I’ve been meaning to fill in some blank entries in my databanks. The Forge is one of them—I, sadly, couldn’t grab  _ everything _ in my exodus. Just most of it.”

“The intel’s been grand, Wiki,” Eliza replied, “and I’m thankful for it. As for you coming on the mission? Absolutely.” With a final tap, the mission roster was filled out. “That’s it. Now to rally the troops and get everything together.”

“Mordenna versus the Elders, round four,” he mumbled. “Who wins? Who dies? Find out after the break.”

Bradford shook his head. “This is gonna be another long one...”

 

* * *

 

The more Mordenna moved with squads, the more he could see the potential appeal in them.

Safety in numbers, for one. He was guaranteed more firepower than he could possibly carry by himself by just having a few more bodies around that could lug and fire it. A more cynical side of him—which was a fair portion of him, but lesser than before—wanted to say they were pretty effective decoys. A less cynical, more pragmatic part spoke of them being worthwhile distractions—loud, noisy, dangerous distractions while the real threat in the back lined up another shot.

Though, of course, he still knew the downsides. Most people couldn’t  _ sneak. _ To him, his whole squad, sans his sister, stuck out like a sore thumb against the slightly-brown backdrop of the dying grass and foliage. Wiki, being the shining beacon she was, definitely didn’t help either. Granted, she was sticking in another dimension for now, but it was the principle of the matter. At least SYN had gotten some upgrades, courtesy of him—all of his clunking around was now heavily muted in the distortion field. That was thanks to some cues he took from Fal-Mai’s cloak and how it worked.

Speaking of her, she was farther ahead. Mordenna’s keen sight picked her out in the depot that capped off their long walk. Still advancing, he watched as a distant shimmer eclipsed a lone Trooper, the air itself seeming to swallow him. He reappeared behind a building and out of sight, throat slit. For as much grief as he gave his sister, Fal-Mai was skilled. A shame that such executions were limited by sightlines and the enemy being unaware, but eh.

The lone patrols steadily dropped as the squad kept moving forward, leaving the checkpoint empty. The lack of trees meant that the buildings themselves were the only shelter from the crisp, vaguely autumn air. This side of the globe, at least. Mordenna could see seasons being difficult to track thanks to the flight range of the Avenger. He was thankful he knew the date, at least. It made Eliza’s rather late attention to the Forge interesting—but judging by the tech on the Avenger, it wasn’t like they were doing nothing  _ but _ dashing for him and his siblings.

Breaking out of his thoughts and the tangent they went on, Mordenna cast his gaze further outwards. The checkpoint led into two, thin bridges crossing a ravine, with the Forge Facility just across the way. Right before  _ that _ was...

Mordenna pressed a finger to his ear. “Commander, the Assassin’s cleared out a large portion of the patrols. All that’s left is the Andromedon and the Sectopod... and far be it from me to throw out baseless guesses, but I think the former’s starting to realize this place is a lot more empty than it was.”

“ _ Loud and clear. Proceed with caution, and you’ve got my endorsement to engage. _ ”

As he nodded, Mordenna took up his post, pulling out his sniper rifle and settling it in his hands. In front of him, he watched the squad take position—Rosa behind SYN, Mary to their side, Wiki on top of one of the buildings, and Fal-Mai  _ presumably _ well-positioned, somewhere. “Menace One-Five, I am a cobra poised to leap off a cliff over here. I’m firing on that Sectopod—I know those things top to bottom and I guarantee I’m toppling it over.”

“ _ Got it, _ ” Rosa said into comms, voice low, “ _ SYN and I will focus on the Andromedon, then. Mary, stand by to help as you can. Wiki... help however. Assassin, cleanup duty. _ ”

The silent agreement among the squad was what she got back as everyone got prepared. Gazing through the scope of his rifle, it was quick to highlight potential structural weak points on the Sectopod. He’d have to make this shot count—he didn’t doubt its ability to lock onto him even from this distance. Adjusting a bolt on the side of his gun, the scope’s display confirmed he had swapped over to AP rounds. Mordenna breathed in, steadying himself. “Firing in three... two...  _ now. _ ”

He squeezed the trigger on his Darklance, and his eyes were locked on the destination of his bullet. The round shredded through the air and hit home, completely destroying one of the leg joints of the Sectopod. With a heavy weight behind it, it crashed down—and its leg fell onto the Andromedon, pinning it prone. “ _ Right on the mark, _ ” he hissed, the satisfaction of having pulled that off in front of a squad a bit more than the usual spark.

The squad fired in turn, the twin barrage of Rosa and SYN cracking open the safe chamber of the Andromedon and swiftly killing the rider. The top of the Sectopod’s chassis popped open, revealing its blaster. Mordenna lined up to split that thing from barrel to receiver, but was pleasantly surprised when he didn’t have to. Wiki was quick to zip from one spot in reality to the next, appearing on top of the Sectopod and plunging a hand in it. With a shuddering whine, the cannon slipped back in, and the Sectopod shut down.

A shot out of Mary’s rifle left the Sectopod the only threat to deal with. “Move it, sparky!” Mordenna barked. Wiki was fast to comply, winking out of normal sight and reappearing behind one of the buildings. With his eyes trained on it, Mordenna let another shot rip out of the barrel of his gun, blasting a hole straight through the main body of the war machine. Its systems overloaded and with a deafening bang, it was no more.

Letting the breath go, he lowered his weapon... just in time to see a shimmer of psionics. His sister’s cloak dropped and made it clear that she was clutching her head. Feeling  _ some _ sort of bad twinge, Mordenna rubbed the back of his neck. “... sorry, Fals.” It wasn’t that he hadn’t figured the explosion would hurt her—he wasn’t a Hunter for nothing—it was more to the point that it... Felt bad to see?  _ You  _ **_really_ ** _ aren’t a Hunter anymore. _

Fal-Mai shook her head. “It was a necessary action—I would not have you hold off on dispatching an enemy just because the process of doing so disturbs me.”

“Still,” he protested, “Gatekeepers, Sectopods, unruly Reapers, there is a  _ lot _ of noise that XCOM brings. Seems hardly fair you’re getting the short end of the stick because Helena didn’t know how to safely design worth shit.”

Fal-Mai was quiet at that, and Mordenna internally cursed. He’d meant to lead up to something good, but...  _ The ‘bad parent’ card is never a good one to pull, you idiot. You think you’d know this by now. Just get on with it. _ “My point being, I think it’s high time we fixed that. Lily? You listening in?”

“ _ Sure am, Mordenna. _ ”

“Headpiece that dampens noise above a certain decibel level. I bet my left eye that we can pull that off, yeah?”

“ _ It’s certainly possible, and definitely something I’ve been meaning to look into. _ ” Mordenna could figure that line of thought came around for her ever since Fal-Mai’s Ascension Facility. “ _ Yeah. You just need to make it out of here in one piece. _ ”

“Don’t go betting on racehorses when you’re not at the track,” he shot back. “Anyway, sound good, Fals?”

She nodded. “I appreciate the gesture. For now—”

“— _ We’ve got other stuff to do, _ ” Rosa followed up. “ _ The whole goddamn facility likely heard that Sectopod explode. Our cover’s blown. _ ”

With that, Rosa and SYN began their advance. Not one to be left behind, Mordenna abandoned his perch and traded it for one of the buildings Wiki was perched on. “‘Sup, sparky. Pretty intense hack you did there.”

Wiki stayed where she was at, trying to keep behind a railing. “Largely off the cuff, too, but I had some gleaning that I could do it beforehand. Get curious enough to look up how Sectopods work and all the hostile code in the world doesn’t matter so much when you’ve memorized just how those things function.”

“Codices and their eidetic memories,” he half-grumbled. “I’m gonna have to ransom that info out of you sometime.”

“Ransom?” She gave a digital scoff. “Are you implying I wouldn’t hand it over as part of our new working relationship?”

“Are  _ you? _ ”

Wiki stared at him a bit. Then, she turned her attention forwards. “—I’ll get back to you on that.”

Oh, Codices. Mordenna snickered, pinning his eyes forward. The facility in front of him was all white—a notable deviation from ADVENT’s mostly-gray fare. An ADVENT logo was branded on either side of the entrance door; more notably, they were the Avatar Project type. A quiet sense of dread started to creep on Mordenna. Some dark part of his memories was calling to him, telling him that there was something dreadful just beyond that door.  _ Well, you’re here now. Gonna be hard to tell everyone to turn back, even if you wanted to. _

Rolling his shoulders, Mordenna readied himself, eyes on the front door. The squad was advancing steadily, splitting into two as they crossed the bridge. Wiki peered over the railing, and Mordenna got the strong impression that she was squinting. “Strange. I’m absolutely sure there’s a guard in the facility—they should’ve come charging out by now.”

“Curious indeed, but won’t matter so much when we encounter them. Just their choice on where they wanna die.”

Still, Wiki kept her head up... which was honestly distracting Mordenna a little. Speaking of his squad (outside of his sister) being unable to be stealthy, how did she think she could hide with that constant black cloud off of the back of her head? Granted, she could warp into another dimension and render it largely moot to anyone without interdimensional vision, but he still found it absurd.

“Nice squad you’ve got here.”

Mordenna’s hand flew to the Darkclaw and he was turning around and firing off a shot behind him before he knew so much as what he was shooting at. His eyes caught up quickly—the Specter’s shoulder dispersed in a cloud of nanites, and it backed up, raising its hands in a pacifying gesture as it reformed. “Hold on hold on, don’t shoot.”

Wiki caught up quickly and had her gun levelled at the intruder. “Give me one good reason, you. You  _ meddler. _ ”

The Specter’s head swiveled to Wiki. “Ah, yes. You. The defected Codex of legend. Figured the lone Codex batting for XCOM’s side and flying their colors like that had to be you.”

“That is  _ not _ a good reason,” she hissed.

They shook their head. “Apologies. My one good reason is the same as yours, Wiki. I’m tired of fighting for ADVENT. You know exactly why me and my ilk were brought in.”

Ever so slightly lowering the Darkclaw, Mordenna squinted. “—One of the Ethereals outside of the Trio brought you guys in to spite my old man making the Codices, right?”

“Precisely... well, largely.  _ Twin _ Ethereals, but otherwise the story’s correct.” They gestured to Wiki. “Probably why Wiki here is still visibly agitated at me.”

“While I can’t exactly lie and say that’s not the reason, it’s not my  _ only _ reason.” Her gun remained raised, but she took her finger off the trigger. “More importantly you just showed up behind the both of us!”

“ _ Mordenna, Wiki, what’s going on up there? _ ” That was Mary over the channel.

Shaking his head, Mordenna lowered his gun completely. “—got spooked by a Specter. Still negotiating, but I think we might have another turncoat.”

“Upgrade that ‘might’ to a ‘definitely,’” they corrected. “I am, as you might be, tired of being a product of spite. Tired of running around under ADVENT’s quite terrible administration, and wanting to lash out at the Elders like many others.”

Mordenna eyed them up. “And why should we trust you?”

The Specter pointed towards the Forge. “Technically, I’m the leader of a squad in that building. I told them to stay behind while I ‘sabotaged their SPARK.’ Two Troopers, a Shieldbearer, and a Viper. If it helps, I’d be fully willing to let your Codex here sever me from the Network herself—and check back through my order logs if she thinks this is some sort of trick.”

Wiki finally lowered her gun completely, pinning it to her hip and standing up. “If I find out you’ve been lying to us in any capacity, I’m having Mordenna here fire on the core keeping you together.”

“Right side of your hip,” Mordenna confirmed. Just for a second, he could swear he saw the Specter  _ tense. _ Specters could move their core around, but Mordenna’s eyes were good enough to pick out where it was.

If they betrayed any emotion, it passed quickly. “All the more reason for me to not be duplicitous. Now, make it quick. Sooner or later they’re going to get curious why I’ve been out so long.”

Stepping forward, Wiki plunged her hand into their chest as she had the Sectopod. The green lines running down their form flickered and the Specter stood stock-still for a few moments. After a while of silence, Wiki pulled back, and the Specter animated again. “—They weren’t lying. Free of the Network now, too.”

“Excellent!” Mordenna holstered his Darkclaw and clapped his hands together. “Does this please the Great Commandy One?”

He got a chuckle over comms for his troubles. “ _ Absolutely, _ ” Eliza replied. “ _ Though, I can’t help but notice our new ally hasn’t presented us with a name. _ ”

“ADVENT was never fond of giving us names—”

“ _ Schrödinger _ .” Mordenna interrupted them with. “And I pray to god you know why, you obfuscating science horror.”

The Specter laughed in turn. “Schrödinger it is. ‘Schro’ might make for a better nickname for short.”

“ _ Lovely, _ ” Rosa replied. “ _ Can we go, now? _ ”

Mordenna watched as Schrödinger’s green lines shifted to an XCOM blue. “I’m ready to go if we all are. Revenge and whatnot, yes?”

“As always.” Mordenna collected his sniper rifle—propped up against the railing in his quick action—keeping his sights on the building. “Now that you’ve been severed—”

The front door opened. Mordenna fired. One less Viper. “—they’re gonna come crawling out of the woodwork! Look at that.”

The squad on the ground made it across the bridge as the Viper went down. Through one of the windows, Mordenna himself spotted one of the Troopers. So, too, did SYN, and the Trooper got some plasma in his shoulder for his troubles. Pulling the bolt on his weapon back to reload, he adjusted it again.  _ Bloodletting rounds. _ His favorite. Made a hell of a trail and left wounds that were hell to fix up. If the target survived the encounter, of course.

Schrödinger advanced, disassembling and buzzing forwards. Once they got closer and into some good cover, they reformed, peeking out of it. “—It’s likely one of them’s radioed for backup. I’d highly advise clearing through them all quickly and making your way inside. I probably don’t have to tell you this, but you’ll want to see what’s in there.”

“It’s why we’re here, after all,” Wiki replied. “Not here for just the exercise.”

“Never meant to imply it.”

Disregarding the banter for a second, Mordenna kept his eye on the second window. Any second now. Was only logical that someone would either dash past or poke their head out. They probably knew he was here by now—but that Commander proxy leading the lot of them likely didn’t know how to move against him.

A flash of white. A trigger squeeze. Definitely not, if that dead Shieldbearer was any indication.

It was down to two Troopers at this point. “I reckon you can blaze in there,” Mordenna offered. “Not like two Troopers will do anything to SYN’s armor.” SYN was a tank. Though he knew his sister’s sword could slice through it regardless, he’d taken the time to firm it up.

SYN took the suggestion, and his chassis lit up blue as he ignored the door and smashed his way into the facility. Mordenna could hear they dying cry of one of the soldiers as SYN opened fire. Rosa sprinted after him, and after purposefully crashing into his back, unloaded to his other side. After a moment, she spoke. “ _ Area clear, and... you’re going to want to see this, guys. _ ”

“Ominous!” Mordenna returned the Darklance to his back and jumped down. “I love it. Marching in right behind you.”

“That should be the last of the resistance for now,” Schrödinger confirmed. “Until the reinforcements come in. Probably best we get a move on.”

Not like Mordenna needed to be told twice. With his usual strides, he advanced towards the facility, walking across the bridge but keeping his vision wide. Just because Schrödinger said that  _ should _ be the last of them didn’t mean it  _ was. _ It wasn’t as if he didn’t trust their new recruit—well, maybe that was a bit of it—but better safe than sorry. He ducked through the hole that SYN made...

... and a few lost memories came screaming back to him.

The inside of the facility was a stark contrast to the outside. Dark floors and walls, while well-illuminated, lent the inside an air of being covered in shadow. Upright tanks on the far wall lay just beyond some workstations with dark monitors. The tanks themselves bore the standard ADVENT logo. Guard still up, he talked in comms. “Eliza. You seeing this?”

“ _ Somewhat unfortunately, _ ” was the stilted reply he got back. It hit him just then that, well, Eliza was trapped in one of those for twenty years. Probably wasn’t the most comforting sight to see  _ three _ of them here. Yet, something in his gut spoke of something far more terrible beyond.

Bradford seemed to step in for her. “ _ Are those... cloning pods? _ ”

“ _ Most likely so. _ ” Tygan was next to come in. “ _ The DNA sequence and vial we acquired from the Blacksite are likely being used to clone soldiers in this very facility. _ ” That theory had some weight, if the clear floor tiles to the far sides of the room revealing an underground part of the facility were to be believed. The structure went for a  _ long _ way down, and even as they spoke, some smaller parts beneath were active and moving.

“ _ —That vial was going for a very  _ **_specific_ ** _ sequence of DNA, doctor, _ ” Lily added. “ _ Something tells me it wasn’t just for the regular troops... _ ”

“‘Keep looking’ is the message here,” Mordenna summed up, walking further in with intent. “Sis? Anything around we should be aware of?”

“ _ There are no further guards, _ ” was the reply. “ _ The outside is empty. I will be returning inside shortly. _ ”

Mordenna rounded a corner and walked under an archway, unintentionally leading the squad. A thousand thoughts were brewing in his head as his brain was wracking his memory, trying to see if it could find out what way beyond the double doors he came upon and how it linked to what else he knew of the Avatar Project. Lily was right. The Elders needed a very specific sequence of DNA for themselves. But... why? He knew they were dying. He knew that they needed another option. If he had any darkened memories regarding the subject, they weren’t saying anything. The only solution would be to advance and “wake them up.”

With a quick tap, the room beyond the doors was revealed. Once again, his eyes had to adjust to the sudden change in color. The room was almost stark white, with gray sections on the floor. Stairs led up to the main platform in the middle of the area. Machinery was present in nearly every corner of the room, and given the time, Mordenna could discern the purpose of all of it. No, his attention was drawn to the center of the room—where an upright tank stood, with the Avatar logo on the front.

Finally, files he had remembered accessing came back to him. This Forge... was home to the prototype Avatar. The Elders had been trying for  _ years _ to make a body that they could inhabit that would be able to withstand their psionics. Humans were the last key to the puzzle. If there was an intact Avatar in there...

It took a minute, but Mordenna realized that he and everyone else that had entered the room had stopped in their tracks. Even Fal-Mai was on the far side, having entered through the other door, staring at the tank. The two of them locked eyes, and Mordenna drifted forwards like he was walking in a dream. There was a lever on the side of the tube—the  _ Stasis Tube, _ he remembered—which he reached out and pulled. Klaxons blared, the front of the container parted... and revealed the body within.

Save being colored white instead of orange, the suit the body was in was nearly an exact match of the one the Commander inhabited. In his ear, he could hear Eliza’s strangled gasp, sending a knife into his gut. As the body slumped forward, unsupported, he was quick to reach out and catch it.

“ _ That’s— _ ”

Bradford could only get so much out before Mordenna took over. “Goons and gals,” he forced out, “this just became an extraction mission. I want a hole in the wall to the back of the facility and I want it  _ now. _ We’re getting out of here.”

“ _ I’ve got Firebrand on approach. Keep that thing safe! _ ”

Hoisting the Forge Body further over his shoulder, Mordenna took out his Darkclaw with his free hand. He could hear SYN break out into a sprint, and soon enough, there was a SPARK-sized hole in the back of the facility as well.

“ _ Reinforcements are coming to the south! _ ” Firebrand said. “ _ I’m moving this bird as fast as she can go—you get to the exfil point and we can leg it out before they get here! _ ”

Taking it to heart, the squad sprinted out of the new backdoor in the facility, Mordenna himself being the last as he kept a steady hold on the body. He didn’t even want to think about the kind of state the Commander must’ve been in to make a sound like  _ that _ having seen the suit the Forge Body was in. If anything, he supposed it was likely linked to her PTSD—you didn’t exactly sit in something like that for so long and  _ not  _ develop some pretty strong feelings about it.

He could spot the Skyranger on approach as they scaled the outcroppings at the back of the facility. Looking back, an ADVENT dropship was farther in the distance. Mordenna had to give Firebrand credit—the model of the Skyranger was an old one. For her to outpace the newer dropships must’ve meant some serious flying on her part.

The Skyranger came in at a hover, and the back opened before it had even established a firm spot. As the cords came down, SYN rocketed up—with Rosa clinging to him, no less. Wiki and Schrödinger went by their own methods: teleportation and “flight” respectively. The rest of the squad took ahold of a cord and were drawn up into the Skyranger as it already started to fly out. Either Firebrand could see back there or she was taking a  _ very _ confident gamble that they had all gotten to cords in time.

Didn’t matter so much now that they were on the ship, he figured. Swinging in, Mordenna took his spot next to his sister, laying the Forge Body on the floor carefully once everyone was settled in. Firebrand came in over the ship’s speakers. “ _ Everyone in? I’d apologize for the hasty extraction, but by the sounds of it, you all needed to get the hell out of dodge. _ ”

“We’re all in,” Mordenna confirmed, “with package in tow. Get us the hell out of dodge.”

“ _ Alright. Central, this is Firebrand. All XCOM operatives secure and the package is safe. We’re on our way home. _ ”

 

* * *

 

Why did she have to be so weak?

Here Eliza was, leaned against Bradford, walking down a little-used hall of the Avenger. She still had her head partially buried in his shoulder, confident that he was making sure they wouldn’t run into any walls. It was quiet, save for the sounds of their footsteps and the gentle rush of her own breathing. Eliza prayed that they wouldn’t encounter anyone else while she was like this. Nobody needed to see their Commander in this sort of state.

The minute she had seen those tubes in the front of the Forge Facility, Eliza had almost seized up—and she hated it. She knew  _ why. _ But the fact that she could be paralyzed by something that really only amounted to a goddamn  _ storage container _ wore away at her and made her frustrated at herself. That Forge Body certainly only made it worse.  _ A suit. You’re spooked by a suit. Eliza, what’s wrong with you? _

Eliza took in a shuddering breath, squeezing Bradford. In response, he stopped and pulled her closer. “Liz...”

“I—I’m  _ fine _ ,” she eked out, lying through her teeth. She loved Bradford, but the fact that he had to  _ coddle _ her like this sat wrong with her. She was the Commander of XCOM. She had never fought in any of the battles against the aliens herself. She shouldn’t be like  _ this. _

“You are  _ not, _ ” he retorted, though not unkindly. “Look... being cooped up for as long as you were, I’d get jumpy around anything that reminded me of that time, too. It’s not like your reaction is irrational.”

“But... in front of the whole  _ Bridge. _ ” She weakly beat a fist against his shoulder. “I nearly broke down. God knows if you hadn’t gotten me out of there, it would have been worse.”

“Do you think that would’ve changed anyone wanting to fight for you, Liz?” He moved her head so she had to look right at him. His face was soft, even if his words were firm. “You’ve been through hell and back. Anyone thinking you’d come out the other side perfectly fine are the ones who need their attitudes checked. You’re human. You aren’t invincible.”

“I’m not...” Her throat seized up on her, but she pressed on. “ _ I’m not human. _ I-I can’t be. Not after twenty years. Not after...”  _ What Argus had done to me. _ Eliza herself didn’t remember—but Mordenna’s words did have to have some credit behind them...

He squeezed her into him, undeterred. “You’re human where it matters, Eliza. You still have that care for everyone around you, and I don’t think anything will change that. In a war like this... this world needs someone like you. One hundred percent human or not.”

Hearing that, Eliza took a moment to just sink into Bradford, arms winding around him properly. As much as she had forgiven Mordenna... his words stuck with her.  _ Chosen Siren. _ One day off. Changes still made. Could she even sing, now? So much potentially taken away from her, leaving her to pick up the pieces.

But, she wasn’t immune to Bradford’s hug, or his words. Perhaps her own worth could lie outside of that... it was just hard to accept, after everything else. She had so much repenting to do. It was only right, after the things she had done. Bradford knew all of it, and yet he stayed by her side. Eliza didn’t think she could ever get around to telling her new soldiers what had happened... but Bradford was definitely enough.

A bit more of silence, and Eliza stood up properly, leaning her forehead against Bradford’s. “—I’m sorry. I’ve got no way to justify myself.”

“You don’t need to,” he replied softly. “You do enough for everyone here. You’ve got to rest sometimes, Eliza.”

“There’s just too much to be done in a day, Bradford. God knows people need the help, too...”

“And  _ you do too. _ ” One of his hands sought out her shoulder and squeezed it. “Human or not, you need your breaks.”

She lidded her eyes. Eliza just... couldn’t. She shouldn’t need the breaks. There were people who needed her, who relied on her. She had to be ready for them, no matter the hour. Still, she sighed and closed her eyes. “—you might have a point. Might. Just...” Her mind roamed back to the Forge Body. “... we’ve got places to be, Bradford.”

“Liz. You don’t have to enter the Lab.”

“Have Tygan cover it. We... we need to discuss the ramifications of it with him in person.”

After a long while, Bradford sighed in turn and let her go. “Alright. I’ll tell him to put it away or whatever he can do with it. Don’t feel like you have to stay, alright?”

“Alright.” With that, Eliza stepped back from Bradford, carrying herself better than she did before. Making their way through the ship, the two of them eventually got to a hallway that connected to the Laboratory, arriving at the less-used door. Exchanging a silent glance, Eliza leaned against the wall while Bradford walked in, closing her eyes.

After a second or two, Bradford came back. “There’s a sheet over it. Think that’s enough?”

Eliza nodded, opening her eyes. “Should be. Let’s get this over with.”

Following Bradford, Eliza passed through the doorway and into the Lab. Over at the dissection table stood Tygan and  _ Mordenna. _ Both of them were on either side of the table itself, where a white cloth was draped over presumably the Forge Body. A chill ran up her spine, knowing what lay underneath... but she could steel herself, and steel herself she did. Eliza walked with head held high, arriving at the table as Bradford did. “Tygan. Mordenna.”

“Commander.” Tygan inclined his head towards her. “Good to see you on your feet.”

Eliza gave him a smile, knowing he meant well by his comment. “Glad, myself. What’s in that suit?”

“An Avatar.”

All eyes went to Mordenna. He was looking down at the sheet—no doubt seeing through it, with his gifted eyesight. His gaze flickered between all of them before he spoke again. “No doubt you lot have uncovered that the Elders have been, quite frankly,  _ refining _ humans for some nebulous purpose. The gene clinics. Screening for  _ just _ the right sequence—and whoever had it.”

“Cut to the chase, Hunter,” Bradford said, tense.

Mordenna tapped the sheet. “I’m also pretty sure you guys know the Elders are straight up dying. Muscle degeneracy and all. Their bodies are getting too weak to handle them, though if that’s because of their use of psionics or simply a genetic disease, not even I know. The chase I’m cutting to here is that they’re making  _ new _ bodies. Bodies they can inhabit.” He gestured to Tygan. “Tygan here knows that all ADVENT soldiers have gaps in their sequences, fit to have whatever alien DNA shoved in them at will. This body,  _ this _ specific body, is different. Like Priests, it’s got psionic sensitivity... but that’s  _ on its own. _ Not through Sectoid or Gatekeeper DNA sequence filling. The Elders manufactured a body that can withstand huge amounts of psionics... and even augment them.”

The weight of what Mordenna just said settled on the room heavily. Bradford rubbed his mouth, Tygan went stiff, and Eliza found herself simply staring at him. From the way Mordenna spoke... it was as if he knew this all along. “Hunter. How long have you known this.”

He looked to the Commander, and then swiftly away. “—Severance Effect, Eliza. I only knew when I saw the Stasis Tube. Then the memories came screaming back. I would have told you earlier if I had known.”

Eliza’s potential unease melted away quickly. God knows there had been a lot she had forgotten in her severance. She looked back to the body, other questions rising. “So what we’ve got here is essentially a puppet for an Elder.”

“Not even that. A permanent body. Conscious upload presumably included.” He looked back to her now that her face wasn’t as stern. “And this is just an  _ alpha. _ Barely a prototype. You lot have been busy mucking up the process, but even then, this thing is potentially useable. Not that I’m saying it  _ should _ be used. God no. But the Elders sure as hell intend to.”

Bradford dropped his hand. “Anything else we should know?”

“Just that they’re going to be pissed you guys took this one.” He gestured again. “And that there should be a total of about  _ four, _ this one possibly excluded. Probably with the four Elders looking after Earth being the ones to get the test run.”

“Cronus, Odin, Helena, and  _ Argus, _ ” Eliza listed, spitting out the last name. “It’s our job to make sure that never happens.” She nodded towards Mordenna. “Thank you for your insight, Mordenna. Tygan? Update me if you find out anything more about it.”

“Understood, Commander,” he replied. “Mordenna? I believe I might have to borrow you for future research projects, if your knowledge is this extensive.”

“Happy to oblige, doc.” He spread out his arms. “I’ve killed everything that walks, flies, and crawls. I ought to update your autopsies.”

“If that’s all,” Bradford said, with the definite air of “anyway,” “we’ve got some pieces to pick up. Didn’t Wiki say she had a location for us to check out based on the other Codex brains we’ve acquired?”

“She certainly did.” Eliza straightened and nodded at them all. “I’ll have to be going over those reports and getting back to her. Is there anything else for me?” When all she got was them shaking their heads, she continued. “Alright. Mordenna, Tygan, continue your work. Bradford, I’m off for Wiki.”

“Good luck, Commander,” Mordenna returned as she went to leave.


	27. Siblings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jax’s siblings visit him in his cell—but not before an encounter with Eliza.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the wait on this one. I really don't have an explanation outside of possible, temporary burnout.

Was this really the life that Jax was meant to lead?

Stuck in a cell, banished from what he thought was his true home... and yet, getting daily visits from his followers. Extended an offer of service from who was supposed to be his enemy... and even more strangely, the fact that he was considering it so heavily. Twenty years, he had been in service of the Elders, as arguably Their strongest champion, the very face of Their power. Was he not supposed to vehemently reject the offer Eliza presented him outright?

Yet. Yet he had told her “wait and see,” in so many words. He had told her that he would consider her offer. Some part of Jax recoiled at everything he had done ever since Eliza had approached him in his cell. This was not him, surely. He was the Chosen Warlock. Their eldest child. Something had happened to him between now and XCOM arriving at his former Stronghold to make him act like this.

_ Yet. _ He was currently tracing the padding on the palms of his gauntlets. Jeanne had come in not so long ago, had marvelled at how Jax had been cleared to be uncuffed. Many more had come before her, offered their support to him, their hand by his side. He didn’t think he was missing a single follower in his visits. Maria had even come in multiple times to check in on him. Technically... they were all in the employ of XCOM now. Even if they still supported him, they moved about the ship as one of the crew. Shouldn’t that preclude him joining?

Even so, his stubborn pride was nipping at his heels every time he tried to stop at a conclusion, forcing him to dance around it and provide more and more reasoning to do it. He was “giving up too easily.” He was “not believing in Them sufficiently.” But... had He not believed in him—?

_ Weakness. He did not believe in weakness. The minute you decided to disobey was the minute you forfeit His love for you. _

Jax’s arms sought around himself, and he heaved a longing sigh. Every time he tried to broach anything about that, some part of him was quick to supply reasons and explanations. It was maddening. He was trying to come to peace with himself, but  _ he _ wouldn’t allow it! Jax did not want to make the decision to defect lightly, but it was hard to think seriously on it when his support of the Elders cried foul of it. It hurt, to think of it—to remember why he was even  _ here. _ Eventually, when left alone long enough, he’d give up and resolve to come back to it later.

He’d done it too many times, now. Too many times he had gauged his wounds from Him and wondered how many were his fault. How many of them were  _ His _ fault.  _ All of them are you fault, have you gone mad? Dare you question Him? _ Yes! Yes he dared. After all... “A good parent would not leave their child fearing for their life at punishment, would they?” Had Fal-Mai not said those very words to him?  _ You are simply unequipped to handle Their love. They mean the best for you. _ “Is ‘love’ supposed to hurt?” Jax knew there was a difference in what Maria said was her love for him, and what the Elders said Their love was. He knew this. So why was it so hard to grasp?

_ There is some part of you that is still rational, that knows that you are merely being petulant at the Elders, and They have acted accordingly. You are simply  _ **_masochistic_ ** _ in your thinking. _ He shuddered. No. He was just... asking questions.  _ You know where that had landed you before. You want to ask so many questions, but the minute your Father asks just one of you, you can’t  _ **_answer Him,_ ** _ can you? _

Curling in on himself, Jax hugged his knees and desperately tried to clear his thoughts. He was in the Gathering Hall all over again. He was asking too many questions. He shouldn’t think. He shouldn’t be so  _ weak— _

The rush of the door opening was something new, and Jax found himself  _ flinching _ at it. It was most likely Eliza... but he couldn’t even bear to look up. Despite the outside noise, the memory hadn’t stopped. He could swear he could feel the very air around him heating up, and his whole back tensed in agony,  _ waiting _ for what was surely coming.  _ Weakness. Weakness. These emotions of yours are mere weakness. As much as you chide your sister, you are just as deficient as she is. It’s no wonder He cast you out. You’re lucky He kept you as long as He did. _

_ Jax. _ He’d done all he could. He thought he had just been asking genuine questions.  _ Jax. _ Cronus was angry now. He’d never heard Him use just his first name before. Jax had crossed a line. Was there nothing he could do right?  **_Jax._ ** He was sorry. He was sorry! He—

“ _ Jax! _ ”

Though not entirely coming to his senses, the presence of warmth on his arms got him to look up, fervently-muttered apologies dying on his lips. Steadily, he could make out the form of the Commander, leaned in close to him. She looked so concerned, and...  _ pained. _ It was then that Jax could feel his psionics slipping out from under him as they had, a direct reaction to the terror he had been experiencing. The storm was likely buffeting her.

Jax took in a gasping breath, his gauntlets flying to his face. He could feel them hum and fill with energy as he desperately tried to stem the tide of power that was crashing out of him. They were fulfilling their duty, restraining his power. Even so, he knew a force like his to be unbearable. “C-Commander,  _ don’t— _ ”

He could feel Eliza squeezing his arms, leaning a bit closer. “Jax. Where do you think you’re at, right now?”

He... he didn’t know. He shook his head feverishly. The hall, the cell, his Stronghold, he just couldn’t comprehend. Jax’s gauntlets trembled with his fears and power.

“Jax, I’m going to move your gauntlets from your eyes. I want you to look around and tell me what you see, ok?” With that, there was pressure on his hands, trying to move them away from his face. He resisted, initially... but he realized what Eliza was trying to do. In the aftershocks he had faced in his  _ punishment, _ Maria often attempted to calm him by reassuring him of his surroundings. Realizing that, he let Eliza take his hands down.

Gingerly, he opened his eyes... and felt a fresh batch of tears fall from them, quickly hiding them again.  _ Crying in front of the Commander. You are truly a disgrace to the Elder’s vision. _ As if in response to his thoughts—or to the breath he choked in—he heard Eliza gently shush him, hands over his wrists. “It’s ok. It’s ok to cry. You’re hurt. It’s natural. Wipe your tears, and we can try again.”

Hands shaking, he palmed at the wetness on his face, casting his gaze upwards and trying to look anywhere but at the Commander. What greeted his eyes was white. No gray, no purple, no spectral flames. It was his cell. There were no Elders here. Just him and the Commander.

_ The Commander. _ Though he looked over to her, his eyes went down, focusing on the XCOM emblem on her uniform. Here he was, breaking down in front of her, having to be  _ coddled _ by her. If he had any image before, it was ruined now. The storm was still there... but granted, it was subsiding with the knowledge that he was not there, anymore. He was on the Avenger, out of Their reach.

Something caught his eye—though the cracks and seams of his gauntlets were mostly pinkish-purple from his own powers, there was a mote or two of  _ light blue _ coursing amongst them. His gauntlets were equal siphons and storage as much as they were restraints. Was he...?

Finally, he tore his gaze up to Eliza. She was less pained now, and while she was still concerned, it was more soft. “Can you tell me where we are, Jax?”

_ This is absurd. Are you really going to have her mollycoddle you like this? _ “... I—we’re i-in my cell. Not... not  _ there. _ ” The answer was  _ yes, _ apparently.

Nodding, Eliza kept her hands on his gauntlets. “Yes. We’re on the Avenger, in your cell. This is where you’ve been for the past few days. Nowhere else. I know what it’s like, to get confused.” Her face softened further. “You don’t have to be sorry. It happens. You’re going to be ok.”

He kept repeating that all to himself, in his mind. He had to reaffirm that he was  _ here, _ in this moment. Even if he detested his very being for falling apart in front of her like this. But... something stuck out at him. Surely Eliza, even with her minimal psionics, could feel the storm once he had entered. Would it not have been wiser to leave and fetch Maria, and forsake whatever she had originally entered for? She was only putting herself in harm’s way by doing this. What was she trying to accomplish? Was... was she actually trying to comfort him?

_ This is the Commander of XCOM! A mere target for you to capture! Yet here you are, practically  _ **_fraternizing_ ** _ with the enemy! What do you have to say for you and your relentless thirst for  _ **_punishment?!_ **

His hands balled into fists, and he tucked his head down, hiding his face. “I—” He hiccupped, gritting his teeth. “I’m sorry... this... this is u-undignified of me, I shouldn’t—” Then he was interrupted by a barely-restrained sob, and his hands sought into his hair. Almost anything would be preferable to this, this slow torture that he was enduring.

“Jax.” He sucked in a breath, but nodded shallowly. “Do you want a hug?” Was she seriously stopping to offer one? Jax... would not mock the action. He knew how calming a gesture it was, especially for one such as him—but that shred of pride that was still left was practically choking him, forbidding him to accept it. How much more would he debase himself? Even as he asked that, he could feel himself shaking, and a  _ young _ part of him was crying out.  _ Are you going to make her go away? Are you going to make us be alone? _ No. He didn’t want to be alone. He did not want to be this  _ childish _ either, but out of all of his problems right now, there was exactly one he could help.

Opening his eyes and lifting his head just long enough to confirm where the Commander was, Jax reached out and pulled her in tightly, squeezing her. He buried his face into her shoulder, trembling with the force of holding back his crying.  _ You’re  _ **_pathetic._ ** That he may be... but this felt better. Eliza asked. Though she was supposed to be his enemy, he found comfort in the gesture she offered.

“It’s going to be ok,” she assured, voice slightly strained. Jax hadn’t the mind to think as to why. “Deep breaths. You’re safe here. Nobody’s going to hurt you.”

“Will—” Jax found himself choking out, hating himself for every word. He had to know. “You... y-you think I’m weak—?”

“No. Not at all.” Jax could feel Eliza squeeze him back. “You’re strong to have managed this long. Everybody has their limits. It’s ok to need to vent, to break down somewhere safe.”

Some tension went out of Jax’s shoulders, and he quieted, listening for Eliza’s breathing. Short, slightly ragged. It was then that Jax realized just how  _ tightly _ he had been holding her and he released a majority of his grip. Eliza sucked in a breath, but calmly let it out, going to deep breathing. He followed in her lead, even as some of his breaths in shuddered and his breaths out were more quiet sobs than anything else. “—I’m sorry, I-I didn’t mean to,” he muttered in a small voice.

“That’s ok. I’m fine,” she assured. “You’re under a lot of stress. I don’t blame you. Just keep breathing with me—I’ll guide you out.”

Jax did, following along with her, breathing deeply. He’d cried a moist patch into her shoulder, but couldn’t be bothered to lift his head. It’d be even worse to show his face in his current state. Though his self-loathing, born from his pride, still dug in at the back of his mind... he  _ was _ calming down. The storm of his psionics was breaking, and he found his sorrow abating. Eliza was, rather successfully, leading him out of his episode.

Eventually, his breathing calmed completely, and he no longer felt his eyes filling up with tears. Eliza must’ve understood, as she spoke softly. “How are you feeling, Jax?”

It was a while before he responded, speaking lowly and in a measured voice. “Better. I...” He took in a deep breath. “I would not have thought you one to do such a thing, for... someone such as I.”

“It’s only right,” she replied. “I wouldn’t leave you there to suffer through that. Like I said, I know what it’s like to suffer alone, when the past creeps up on you. I don’t want you to have to go through that when I have the choice to help you through it.”

He let out the breath he had taken in calmly, taking a moment to reflect on his situation. He, almost amusingly, had literally taken her up on her offer of “a shoulder to cry on.” Jax forced himself to ignore the voice at the back of his mind that continued to decry his failures, pulling back just a bit to wipe at his eyes. “... thank you, Eliza.”

At this distance, in this quiet, Jax could swear he felt the little psionics she had radiate with warmth. “I’m happy to help, Jax. Need a bit more time?”

Right. She had probably entered to ask something of him and found him in the state he was in. By his reckoning, it hadn’t been five days yet, and she’d already visited a while ago to uncuff him. Taking another deep breath, he parted from her, eyes cast downwards. “I... believe I should be fine for now. Do you have something to ask of me?”

Respectfully, Eliza backed off in turn, but remained close, a hand on his arm. “Only if you feel you’re up for it. Your siblings wanted to see you.”

A few things took Jax aback upon hearing that. Firstly, and most importantly, they actually wanted to see him? Jax would’ve expected their wanted dealings with him to be done after the mission to capture them. He knew that if he joined with XCOM, he would have to see them day after day... but for them to approach him of their own volition? Unheard of. Secondly... if his feelings had gotten away from him that badly, there was no doubt that they had also caught ghosts of his episode. With that on his mind, he was torn between denying them outright and letting them in for the sheer curiosity of what they wanted to say.

After a few moments of consideration, Jax moved to stand, sorting himself out the best he could, even running his gauntlets through his hair and tying it up into a simple braid just so he didn’t look as bedraggled as he felt. “Allow them in. I also wish to speak with them.”

He cast a glance back at Eliza just in time to watch a pleasantly surprised expression cross her face. “Well, alright. Are you sure you’re good to handle it? I can stay here, if you want.”

“I am sure, Commander.” He drew himself to a full, confident height. “Though, I would appreciate it if you remained. I do not count on my siblings attempting to do anything to me in your presence.” Jax wondered what exactly their thoughts would be when they entered and saw him largely no worse for wear.

Nodding, Eliza walked over to the datapad, pressing a button. From his position, he could see beyond his cell, allowing him to catch Mordenna pacing in the room beyond. The Hunter stopped upon hearing the door open and locked eyes with his brother. After a moment, Jax nodded, gesturing with a clawed gauntlet to step inside. Mordenna came in short order, with Fal-Mai turning in just behind him. The two of them looked... rightfully, a little reserved, but Mordenna was hiding it well.

Jax was the first to break the ice. “Sister. Brother.”

“Jax.” “Brother.” Mordenna and Fal-Mai returned, respectively, in unintended unison.

When nobody moved forwards, Jax pressed on. “—while I am aware that the two of you have arrived here, likely seeking to ask a few questions of me... considering neither of you have asked them yet, I will ask mine first. Mordenna?” His brother nodded in response. “Was it you who deduced what... had been  _ placed _ upon me?” He didn’t want to return to this subject, but he steeled himself. His curiosity had been eating away at him.

“Well, yeah,” Mordenna began. “I’ll cut my thoughts short here, but these eyes of mine are  _ very _ good at spotting things they’ve seen before. That connector on the front of your collar? Same make as the ‘obedience collars’ they use to move high-profile prisoners. The rest of it had been changed, but  _ that _ I recognized.”

He closed his eyes for a second, willingly ignoring the implications. He opened them again. “And you willingly guided our sister into cutting it off?”

Mordenna shoved his hands into his pockets, eyes flitting about. Jax knew that tell—Mordenna was processing a bit of info at once, thinking over what he wanted to do. After a while, he seemed to uncertainly hit upon it. “Well. Whole purpose of the mission was to  _ capture _ you, not to watch you—” He winced and rubbed the back of his neck, looking away. Looked like he cut himself off. “—yeah. Wouldn’t be good if you were dead. Not exactly the mission parameters.”

It... seemed as if there was more that Mordenna wanted to say on the subject, but he kept his mouth shut. Though Jax found himself off-put by Mordenna’s cold reasoning... there was enough to suggest that Mordenna was toeing around his words because he knew he had an audience. Jax let it drop, and turned to Fal-Mai. “... I suppose I must also ask you what you must think of me regarding the  _ incident _ before that one.”

Though Fal-Mai had looked a tad bit reserved before, she straightened now. “Brother. What the Elders did to you would make anyone cower. I do not think you lesser; it was an expected reaction to what you have endured.”

_ Expected. _ Much like Eliza assuring him that she didn’t blame him for how he acted under duress. A part of him was still asking why about it all. Jax was still wrestling with if it was a good or a bad thing, but he took it in stride for now, inclining his head towards Fal-Mai in lieu of a response.

Fal-Mai, however, continued. “I had seen you armor out in the field... how fares your back, brother? Not to mention the...  _ fit _ you had when we came for you.”

Taking in a steady breath, Jax’s eyes surveyed the room. Eliza continued to wear a look of heavy concern. Mordenna looked almost  _ resigned _ as his gaze was still off to the side. Fal-Mai herself was calm, but not with a cold air about her. She... merely did seem to be questioning it genuinely, as much as Jax didn’t want to answer.

Well, Jax figured he had asked imploring questions of either of them. He was now obligated to answer what they had for him. “... I will admit. My Mystics say they had seen a large patch of burnt skin upon my back. If they are correct...” He lidded his eyes. “It has not faded yet. Maria doesn’t think it ever will.”

The room went quiet at that. Fal-Mai was suddenly withdrawn, arms around herself, as if feeling the back of her own armor, searching for such damage on herself. Eliza bit her fist, seeming to stem off a tide of anger. Mordenna’s own anger, however? It was much less constrained. “— _ figures. _ It really fuckin’ does. Don’t get me wrong, I’m pissed at the Elders here. It figures that I’m not the only one that has to deal with getting  _ branded. _ ”

Fal-Mai closed her eyes at that, looking for all the world like she wanted to disappear. If the Elders had used even close to as much power as They did on him? She was likely marked, too. Upon Mordenna’s words, the heavy silence continued, with Jax feeling his posture start to fall.

“This is bullshit.”

All eyes went to Mordenna. Sensing the need to elaborate, he went on. “We all manage to hightail it to a separate post code to get away from the Elders and we’re still dealing with the shit they did to us. Ain’t right.”

Fal-Mai nodded at that, and Jax? Jax closed his eyes. He could not join in Mordenna’s outright vilification of the Elders. His mind still sought for reasons, after all. As he opened them again, he watched Mordenna’s own eyes jump about, settling on Eliza for a few seconds before he clapped his hands together. “Tell you all what. On this ship, we don’t have the Elders breathing down our necks anymore. Just Eliza, and I’m fine with that because she’s actually got a  _ mouth. _ ” Eliza chuckled in response, and this time around, Jax found the sound rather melodious. Perhaps another change he hadn’t noticed before? Hard to say.

Gesturing as he was known to do, Mordenna continued speaking. “So! I propose a plan. Bro, sis... I’ve got a wild idea. How about we actually try being  _ nice _ to each other for a change? Failing that, at least not trying to kill each other.”

This day couldn’t possibly exist. Jax half-wanted to plead for someone to draw back the curtain and reveal the whole thing was a farce. Mordenna? Suggesting they bury the hatchet? Fal-Mai, at least, looked optimistic, but guarded. “... I will admit, I did not expect that to be a proposition from you,” she began. “I have always wanted cooperation between the three of us, though that had been in the past when I had wished for us to achieve our goal as quickly as possible. But it is a desire I could carry over into this new life. I, for one, agree with this.”

Jax... wished he could be as cautiously optimistic as his sister. He levelled a careful gaze at Mordenna. “Hear me out, brother; I would very much like for this proposition to be genuine. But I must ask, how am I to believe that this is not a tactic to make us drop our guard around you for nefarious reasons?”

“Because if I do something to you guys,” Mordenna responded, “I risk getting thrown out of here. And I really,  _ really _ like it here, as it turns out. It doesn’t suck and that’s pretty groovy. So, there’s that.”

Mordenna? Thinking on the consequences of his actions? Truthfully, Jax knew that he was equipped to comprehend and calculate things to a not insignificant degree... but from what he knew of his brother, it was almost out of left field. As he mused on it, he did remember something. There had been, a while back, one of the telltale reprises of Mordenna  _ going through _ some of his insecurities. The fact that the Hunter still stood before him today was perhaps a testament to what Eliza was capable of.

A good answer was a good answer. The Warlock nodded. “Fine. I see the merit in that. Consider myself, as well, invested in this plan. It will certainly make proceedings easier for the future.”

“Now ain’t that just grand!” Mordenna broke into a confident grin. “The Chosen, all standing in a circle and agreeing to not be quite as shit towards each other. Did you think you were gonna see this day or  _ what, _ Eliza?”

Shaking her head, Eliza joined him in smiling. “Can’t say I ever did. I’m not complaining, though—so long as all of you are cooperating  _ with _ me rather than against me.”

“You’re right, really. I don’t think this world would have been ready for the might of all three of us working together under ADVENT. Why, I ran the numbers...”

On Mordenna went, easily slipping into his usual banter. To Jax, it practically faded into the background noise, and allowed him to more easily ruminate on his thoughts. It was... interesting, to have all of his siblings in the same room without it being a public event. Just the hope of a less confrontational future. If the Elders could see this... They would probably disapprove. 

The thought of it sombered Jax a little. Yes. The Elders had declared the whole competition to acquire the Commander to force them to fight against each other—though, it wasn’t as if they had needed the excuse, back then. However, when he considered that they were all meant to be pitted against each other... why did They punish him for “arrogance?” He had merely taken pride in Their will.

Line of thought continuing, his eyes moved to the Commander. He had thought at length with himself about what could justify Cronus’s actions. At this point, he considered himself too biased to come to any kind of real, unaffected conclusion. Sadly, he considered his followers too biased as well. Based on all of their reactions when the topic came up, they were still too filled with either conclusion or fury... and it wasn’t as if they knew the Elders as he had.

So, what then? His siblings? He already knew Mordenna wasn’t an option. All Mordenna housed for the Elders was sheer spite and hatred. Undoubtedly he’d simply devolve into a seething fury about it. Fal-Mai... was a slightly better option, but Jax felt as if some of Mordenna’s despising of the Elders had imprinted on her. They were two of his three options in people who had experience with the Elders. His last, and with longer experience than he, was the Commander. Though she also spoke about the Elders with occasional upset, he took her as one to put it aside for reasonable discussion. It had happened on the field, once or twice before. Granted, her side was always opposing, but such was the nature of leading the resistance.

Mind made up, he turned to his siblings. “—While I would enjoy having you all here for further discussion... there is something I wish to talk over with the Commander immediately. Would you two grant me that?”

Mordenna had come to a pause in whatever he was on about before Jax spoke, thankfully, and he looked to his brother. He shrugged good-naturedly. “Hey, why not. Could even be my first act of goodwill by fucking off when I’m told!”

Fal-Mai looked as if she had more to say, but seemed to take Mordenna’s words well, inclining her head. “As should I... but less  _ profanity _ meant in my sentiment. I wish to speak more later, Jax, but I will find the time for that. For now, I will take my leave as you ask.”

Nodding, Eliza went over and hit the panel on the wall, opening the door for them. “Thank you two again for wanting to do this. I’m glad with what all three of you are trying to do.”

“Well,  _ someone’s _ gotta try and throw dirt on the hatchet,” Mordenna said, sauntering out, “otherwise we’re all just looking gormlessly at a poor axe someone’s tossed in a hole. But, still, you are  _ ever _ so welcome, Lizzie.”

Eliza chuckled, and the two of them left as the door closed behind them. That left him and Eliza, alone. The Commander turned to him. “Alright, Jax. What’s on your mind?”

Taking in a breath to get his thoughts together, Jax began. “I believe I recall you offering yourself as a listening ear, did I not?”

“I certainly did.”

“... when I ask you this, Commander, I ask you to be as impartial as possible. Seeing as you have  _ seen _ all of what has happened to me in my Stronghold...” He crossed his arms, looking to the side. He really couldn’t look at Eliza as he asked this. “Do you think there was any rational reason that Cronus—that He did what He did?”

The room grew quiet. He spared a glance back, and saw the Commander thinking, a hand to her chin. He face twisted with disgust for a second, but it faded quickly. It seemed as if she were trying to go about it impartially, as he asked. Finally, she looked up at him. “... judging from the most impartial standpoint I can muster, Cronus must’ve picked out a trend. Each Chosen I have captured, I’ve turned against ADVENT. Granted, through them wanting to fight back, but it isn’t my point. That’s an asset being turned back against the Elders. Cronus... must’ve thought that it was better to risk completely losing an asset than having it turned against him.” She let out a tension-filled breath. “And that is as impartial as I can make it. I want to make a thousand qualifying statements and explanations, but you asked for impartiality. That’s my rational take.”

Though each person he had asked beforehand had a slightly different answer, Eliza’s seemed to hurt the most. An asset. Down to the most impartial level... Cronus saw him as a mere asset. Not a son. Jax deflated and slumped, losing his posture he’d maintained in front of his siblings. Well, he supposed he had gotten the answer he had asked for. When it was anyone merely calling Cronus “short-sighted,” “cruel,” or even “stupid,” it was easy for him to brush off or disregard. Failing that, it felt as if it wasn’t a complete reason. The Commander’s answer was truthful enough to sting.

She must’ve spotted his pain, as her shoulders went down. “—Hey. Even if I was supposed to give the least biased answer I could, I’m sorry if I was cold. You shouldn’t be looked at as an asset, Jax. You’re much more than that.”

He closed his eyes, mood dropping. “If a God declares me nothing more than an asset, then is that not merely what I am?”

“If a ‘god’ used me as a computer database, is that not merely what  _ I _ am?”

The retort got Jax to look at Eliza again. The old part of him that would insist that the Elders had the best vision of her... kind of got shoved to the side when she had comforted him. A “computer database” would not rush to his aid when he was in distress, would it? Finding himself without an answer, he sighed. “That’s different,” he muttered, knowing that it was him conceding the point.

“How so,” she asked softly. “I’m no more a victim than you are, Jax. You have the right to question and even change your role in life. Anybody who tries to take that away from you... you should consider why they would want to do that.”

Jax really didn’t know anymore. Every time he tried to throw up another reasoning, Eliza poked through it. Not with the sledgehammer that Mordenna tried to wield, Void bless him. Rather, something more measured. It was hard to argue against someone who had just as much time spent with the Elders as him—even more than him, too.

His eyes remained on her... and they picked out the wisps of psionics clinging to her form. Instead of answering her question, he moved on to that. “I do hate to change the subject, Commander... but your psionics interest me.”

Eliza gave a tired smile. “Light blue, yeah. I didn’t know, myself, until recently. The Templars I know say it should be monitored... and trained, possibly. I’m for it, but nobody’s confident enough to aid me.”

It had been ages since Jax had last tutored someone in using their psionics—that was when the Gatekeeper strain was still being used in Priests. But, back then... he quietly deflected the memory. He was more trained, now. More controlled. It wouldn’t happen again, if he wanted to train the Commander. It was clearly her implication too, if Jax was reading her right. Relaxing a bit with the successful subject change, he huffed. “I suppose you’re implying someone such as myself could handle it...  _ if _ that someone were to make a definite decision regarding his allegiances.”

“Implications are a form of art unto themselves,” Eliza’s smile grew more genuine, “but yeah. It’s pretty much what I’m saying. Give it some thought—you’ve still got a day and a half on your deadline. I’ve been keeping track.”

Jax was somewhat thankful for that—he wasn’t so good about it. “Of course. I can guarantee you my decision come then. For now, that was all I had for you. Do I have any more visits for today?”

Eliza tapped her chin, eyes flickering about.  _ Just like Mordenna... _ “If I remember correctly? Odette at 1300, Bastet at 1700, and then Maria  _ again _ at 1900.”

Jax gave a single chuckle. “She’s wanting to get her visits in, Commander. I do not begrudge her.”

“Oh, me neither. I’m happy she’s visiting so often, frankly. Happy that she’s willing to help out in the Infirmary, too! Leo’s—” She halted in her tracks, regarding Jax. Then, she cleared her throat. “—I know you and Leo have a little spat, but Maria helped his psionics to heal.”

That made Jax raise an eyebrow. Leo took the rivalry more seriously than he did, so he was more inquisitive than anything else. “He had not healed yet from my attack?”

“Not fully, no. He still had some psionic ‘soreness,’ to the best of our description. Guess that rifle of yours is a really effective piece of kit.”

“Indeed. I rarely find use of it in that aspect.”

Eliza held back a snicker. “Or at all?”

The Warlock stopped up for a moment, then huffed, mock-pouting. “It is not  _ my _ fault that my brother fashioned a firearm for me without stopping to think if I had any weapons training whatsoever.”

“Could always change that, y’know. We’ve got the Training Center here, and failing that, the shooting range.”

“A day and a half, Commander, though it is noted.”

Eliza grinned, but it fell into a softer look. “Alright. I should probably leave you to it, then. Bradford will be the one chaperoning Odette, but I’ll be back for the other two later today, alright?”

Bobbing his head, Jax straightened again. “Understood. And...” His hands dropped to his sides. “... thank you, again, Eliza. It was good of you to stay with me.”

Smiling and walking over, Eliza patted his side. “Hey. I’m always, always happy to help, ok Jax? No need to suffer in silence or alone. You can talk to me—or hail me on the pad—if you ever need that again.”

Looking at her with warmth in his heart, Jax nodded again. “I will remember that, Commander. I won’t keep you any more.”

Eliza patted his side again, then departed, hitting the pad before she left the room, leaving Jax to ruminate on his thoughts and the residual feeling in his chest.


	28. Covert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fal-Mai and Mordenna are sent on a Covert Action together.

Fal-Mai supposed it wouldn’t be long before Eliza sent her out on a stealthier mission. She just didn’t imagine it would be hand-in-hand with her brother.

Yet here she was, in her cloak and navigating through the dark, underground tunnels of a civilization quashed. She knew that Mordenna was some distance behind her; he had an impressively quiet stalk, but not soundless. Even so, she would have to strain to hear him over the hum of still-powered fluorescent lights and the muffled groans of metal. By all accounts, he would be unhearable to anyone else.

The purpose of this mission was intel extraction. The Reapers had sniffed out an exposed access point well underground—but there were other missions that had to be handled by the Commander, rumors of a haven about to be raided. To kill two birds with one stone, as it were, Eliza sent the two of them out on this opportunity. They would’ve had some assistance, but... Fal-Mai was there when Volk made it quite clear that he “wasn’t going to have one of his wolves caught up in a sibling spat.” Harsh, but fair, Fal-Mai supposed.

The relative silence of their journey left Fal-Mai observing what she could assume were storefronts, cleared of anything useful long ago. Humans and what interested them were strange at times, to her. As she passed a store seemingly named for conversations that had all manner of clothes and trinkets inside, she mused on how much she would come to understand them. She would be learning more, no doubt, if she was going to be staying at XCOM. Would she ever totally understand? There were still conventions of society she was coming to grips with. Subtlety, for one.

“ _ Ey, sis, you feel like picking out new duds? _ ” Speaking of subtlety. They were both on a local comms frequency, and Mordenna claimed it was masked enough that it’d slip right under most radars. In essence, Mordenna could talk under his breath and she could hear it.

Staying under her cloak, Fal-Mai continued on. “Outside of dying my armor blue, I have not foreseen any other changes to my wardrobe.” She paused to think, navigating over a fallen vending machine. “... perhaps a facemask. And those... headphones, you say you would like to make for me.”

“ _ Correction, sis. I’m already  _ making _ them for you. Remember when I asked to see that headguard of yours? That’s what it’s gonna look like. But yeah, noted. I’ll see what I can do about a facemask. Not like I’ve got much better to do until Lizzie hands down an order. _ ”

Fal-Mai shook her head. “You are curiously charitable lately, brother.”

“ _ Like I said. Bored. Also trying to lean into this ‘being a good brother’ thing. When are you gonna let me see that gun of yours, by the way? _ ”

Though Fal-Mai did not begrudge Mordenna’s sudden goodwill, it made her suspicious regardless. She’d said that she was optimistic, yes. But Mordenna being  _ Mordenna, _ she had her reservations. “Perhaps soon. You will have to forgive me if I am rather stuck on the fact that it is  _ you _ who suggests we all stop bickering. The Mordenna I know would rather foster it.”

When Mordenna came in again, his tone was a bit lower. “ _ Hey. Don’t slam the door on my foot, here. As I said, I’m trying to get a little better, y’know? Maybe it wasn’t entirely for selfless reasons, maybe it wasn’t entirely my idea. But it’s the thought that counts, yeah? _ ”

Fal-Mai’s mouth settled into a tense line. She hadn’t meant to hit any nerves with him. Mordenna was... perplexingly easy to upset, nowadays. Before, he would shrug off most topics as if they were nothing. Still... she was curious. One more question and she would let the topic rest. Mordenna would be fine with explaining himself, yes? “Apologies if I offended. I simply wonder as to your motivations. What would drive you to such new action?”

“ **_Beloved_ ** _ sister of mine. _ ” Now his tone was venomous. “ _ Is your precious hearing on the fritz, or can you not get a simple idea into your skull? I’m. Trying. To. Get.  _ **_Better._ ** _ Which I’m finding kind of hard when people like you can’t get it into their goddamn minds that I’m trying. What’s it matter what my motivations are? _ ”

Her gut twisted into knots at his hostility, and unthinkingly, Fal-Mai settled into her old defenses. “It is not  _ my _ fault that your previous actions against me and our brother leave me questioning how genuine your actions are. Do you forget your transgressions against us? Do you expect us to forget everything?”

“ _ Did you ever stop to wonder  _ **_why._ ** ” His voice was deadly low. “ _ Did you ever maybe think ‘hm, there’s gotta be  _ **_some_ ** _ reason my brother’s always acting like a dick.’ Even now, you know why. Oh, but you were just a tad bit too busy revelling in the  _ **_slaughter_ ** _ you were built for, weren’t you? _ ”

That sent a shard of ice right into her heart, and she stopped in her tracks, hand squeezing a nearby support beam. “I have changed! I was built for a purpose, as were you, Mordenna, and cooperation and care between the Chosen was not exactly encouraged! It is telling that even now you continue to abrase... but I’m sure that is your intention as it always is.”

“ _ You think this is me aiming to hurt your feelings? Do you actually think— _ ”

Over Mordenna, Fal-Mai heard something that made her ears prick. Raising her shroud just enough that Mordenna’s keen eyes could see her, she held up a hand. Despite her conflict with him, the mission was the mission. He began speaking again to the effect of “don’t you pull that on me” until he, too, heard the footsteps that garnered her attention.

Soon, a Trooper on patrol came into view, in front of what looked like an old administrative office. In their arguing, they had reached their destination, and the first patrol. She focused her eyes on the enemy. “Mordenna. Trooper up ahead. How shall we engage?”

Silence. Concern started to work its way into Fal-Mai. Yes, she had been vehemently arguing with him not seconds before, but it had been born of wanting to ask questions. She’d slipped back into her old, defensive self so easily it almost scared her. Maybe if she had apologized and let it drop after that, they wouldn’t be in this situation.

Mordenna continued to not say anything. The Trooper stopped in her patrol. Fal-Mai started to turn her head back. “Brothe—?”

The rest of her question came out as a hiss as a shot from the Darklance marked her cheek, making her drop in a defensive crouch. The sound of a body hitting the floor confirmed her suspicions. “What is the  _ matter _ with you,” she seethed.

Mordenna shrugged, a cold look on his face. “ _ Had to take the shot, sis. Get moving. _ ”

As much as she hated to bow to that kind of command... they were known, now. The Darklance was silenced, but at this distance it’d still garner attention. Turning back to the building and feeling blood run down her cheek, Fal-Mai hopped over her cover and went in to do her work. She could hear someone rushing in to her right—undoubtedly someone coming to check out the body. As the oncoming Stun Lancer came up, she readied her blade...

... just to get another close graze of a bullet as she lunged forward, her mark toppling before she could get to it. Her hand clenched around the grip of her sword. She was on a mission. There were enemies here. Fal-Mai couldn’t just drop everything and go threaten her brother.

As another shot screamed past her ears and undoubtedly cut a groove in her helmet, she resolved to do just that. With anger in her heart, she deeply wound her cloak around herself, thick enough that Mordenna would not be able to see her coming. Sprinting back, she vaulted over debris and refuse to get to her brother, approaching at an odd angle to catch him off-guard as she sent her forearm into his jaw, pinning him to a wall by his throat as he dropped his weapon. Her cloak peeled off and she met his icy gaze with a red-hot fury. “What is the  **_matter_ ** with you?!” She repeated.

Mordenna drew back his lip enough to reveal his teeth. “I’m showing you what it’d be like if I  _ wasn’t _ trying. Since you seem so set on questioning if I’m trying to better myself, fine. I might as well show you. I just ain’t got the fucking patience to get questioned by people like  _ you _ who know just what kind of shit went on behind closed doors. You were there, Fal-Mai. Is it so fucking unreasonable that I want to put what Odin did to me in the past behind me?”

A good portion of Fal-Mai’s fury left her, and again she was reminded that if would’ve been best just to drop the issue and move on when presented the chance. But... she wanted to see this resolved. Yes, she may have questioned Mordenna, but it was because she wanted to wholly believe he wanted to get better. The ice in her heart melted, and she deflated, her grip weakening. She opened her mouth to apologize.

All that came out was a scream as she could feel mag shards embedding themselves into her shoulder.

Mordenna was quicker to act than she was, overpowering her in her agonized state and pushing the both of them to the ground. The shock of the fall sent another lance of pain up her arm and she cried out, squeezing her eyes shut. She was able to hear Mordenna take out his pistol and start firing back at their attackers, the crack of the Darkclaw so close to her ears drowning out anything else. 

Of course. She had told herself that confronting him then was foolish. Then why did she do such a stupid thing? Once again, her emotions had overtaken her, leaving her floundering after the actions she took while influenced by them. She really, really would be better emotionless. There would be far less pain, far less questioning. But... if she was emotionless, would she have ever been punished by the Elders? Would she have ever questioned their methods? Would she have ever met Eliza?

The ringing of her ears subsided after a while, and she confirmed that Mordenna had stopped firing. His hand was no longer planted right between her collarbones—he wasn’t on her at all, actually. It wasn’t long before she could hear his footsteps towards her; when he crouched down beside her, she tried to bat him off, but he smacked her hand away. “ _ No, _ drop it for a second,” he responded, “let me see your shoulder.”

Knowing she was injured and Mordenna probably had some means to help, she let her good hand fall. The pain in her shoulder was intense—Fal-Mai had bullet wounds before. This was something else. It felt like it had struck the exact joint in her shoulder, and goodness knows the kind of damage that had done. Trying to move it at all brought pain, and even Mordenna gently grabbing it to inspect it made her suck in air through her teeth.

There was some rustling, then Mordenna cursed under his breath. “Sis. I’ve got morphine, and that’s about it. Wait.” More rustling. “Alright, we’ve got dressing bandages too. But no forceps. You’re going to have to wait until we get back to get those shards out of your shoulder.”

Giving a quiet groan, Fal-Mai held her bad arm, opening her eyes and looking over at him. “If I had not foolishly dropped my guard, this...”

She trailed off once she saw the mag wound in Mordenna’s shoulder, still seeping blood. If... if he hadn’t pushed her down, that placement... He caught her staring at it and his mouth settled into a line. “It’s nothing.”

“Brother... are you sure you don’t want your own supplies?”

“I’ve had worse,” he quickly countered, taking out a needle and a bottle.

“Yes,” she returned, “but that doesn’t invalidate the pain you’re going through right now.”

For a second, Mordenna’s face softened, and his hands stopped. That didn’t last long; he was back to working with his expression hardening. “Funny of you to care about my pain  _ now. _ ”

More reminders of the kind of hurt Fal-Mai had been projecting at Mordenna. Lidding her eyes and looking down, she angled her head away from her brother. Since she hadn’t taken her own advice earlier, now she would heed herself and stay quiet, letting the matter drop. Best to not agitate it for now... but it was still something she wanted to address. Granted, with a lot of apologies on her part, but she didn’t want to let this lie.

A small prick in her shoulder got her to look back, catching Mordenna emptying the needle into her shoulder. Soon enough, the pain began to fade, Mordenna moving to the bandages and dressing up her shoulder. “Temporary measures,” he muttered, voice soft. “When we get back you need to check into the Infirmary. Probably isn’t healthy to have the shards stay in there.” Done with the needle and the dressing, he indiscriminately tossed the former, getting up and beginning to tie up his own wound. “Can you walk?”

Though she was sure he didn’t intend to bite, it came off as patronizing nonetheless. But, Fal-Mai took in a calming breath, reminding herself that Mordenna was in pain—and just saved her life, from the looks of it. She got up, mindful of her shoulder. “Yes.”

Mordenna finished up on his own wound, tucking the rest of the bandages away and retrieving his weapons. “I cleared out everyone. I don’t think any of them radioed in, but we should probably kick our asses into gear regardless. Watch the door, I’ll handle the access point.”

Nodding, Fal-Mai trailed behind Mordenna as he trekked over the debris, making his way to the front door of the building. Now, Fal-Mai could see what Mordenna had to take down—three more Troopers than she had seen, and a window that hadn’t been broken before probably belied another body inside. He could’ve let her die, and yet...

The Hunter opened the doors and left them there, presumably trusting that Fal-Mai would take her spot. Now that she could see more clearly inside, there was indeed the body of an Officer. Judging by her placement, it was probably her who scored the shot on Fal-Mai. Grimly noting that, she leaned her back against the doorway as Mordenna went over to a terminal that stuck out against the rest of the dusty environment, sitting down and getting to work.

Casting her eyes outwards, Fal-Mai reflected on what had happened. Yes. Mordenna had saved her life... but that didn’t invalidate what he said before hand. Then again, none of that would have happened if she hadn’t slipped back into her old ways— _ which she learned from him. _ Wasn’t it what she was supposed to do when faced with his bile? If that was the case, why did it not feel justified? Why did she feel like she was the one in the wrong alongside him?

“I’m in.” Mordenna’s voice interrupted her thoughts and she looked back to him. He now had his personal datapad on the desk and to the side, and there was information filtering through on both screens. “Shouldn’t take long. Keep watch, just in case.”

“Understood,” she replied, voice low. She looked back outside, keeping her hearing sharp. The silence between the two of them was palpable, especially to Fal-Mai’s enhanced ears. She... wanted to apologize, but wasn’t it Mordenna who aggressed first in all of this? She had been merely asking questions. But... it did occur to her that maybe she wasn’t the best at asking. Maybe if he apologized first.

Judging by the continued quiet, it seemed as if Mordenna didn’t exactly have plans for that. Maybe he did, and they were exactly the same as hers. Fal-Mai wouldn’t know. Still, she wanted to address  _ something, _ anything. Maybe not an apology... but there was something else she could touch on.

Keeping her vision outwards, Fal-Mai spoke up. “Thank you, brother. I... am not blind as to the angle of the wound on your shoulder. Had you not pushed me down, I may very well not be alive.”

First she got a grunt indicating that Mordenna heard her, but after a second, he replied. “I... may be pissed at you, but I mean it when I say I’m trying. Don’t really want you dead, anymore.” He sighed, and then Fal-Mai could hear the mechanical clicking of keys again. “Not like it would’ve felt lovely to see, anyway,” he muttered under his breath.

Fal-Mai... wanted to ask more about that, but was becoming more aware of her lack of subtlety. She genuinely wanted to know more, but she would have to make herself clear. Taking in a steadying breath, she looked inside at him. “Brother... I ask this because I am genuinely curious and I am not trying to guess your true motivations. If anything, I simply want this spelled out to me so I am not in the dark regarding your feelings. I ask this as kindly as I can; would you feel bad if I died?”

Mordenna stopped working again, and she could see him drum his fingers just to the right of the keyboard. After a moment of thought, he responded. “Yeah. It’d suck. I... know we just fought and all but... I really do want to try. It’s frustrating, I get angry, but I want to keep trying. What I’m saying is if you got killed just as I had resolved to try and actually be a good brother to you? I’d... feel bad. Yeah. That ain’t nearly enough words to describe it but... do you get what I mean?”

Fal-Mai nodded. “I understand, brother. Thank you for answering.” She could understand how inelegant and imprecise words could be. Still, Mordenna got his message across to her, and to know he would mourn if she fell? It made her feel better in a way. That all covered, she felt emboldened to do what she would next. “Mordenna. I’m... sorry for questioning you. I was only genuinely curious, but I realize now that my words were blunt and uncaring for your feelings. I want to believe you are trying—and I do, now. Regardless of your motivation. Even if you are just doing it for someone like Eliza...” She paused, smiling. “That is a noble motivation.”

Leaning back in his chair, Mordenna looked back at her, face soft. “—y’think so?” When she nodded, he looked back at the monitors. “... that’s. Nice to hear. Thank you.” It was a while, but eventually he spoke up again. “Sis, uh. I’m sorry for shooting at you. And about the whole ‘slaughter’ thing. And for insulting you.” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “I’m not doing the best out of the gate, am I?” He muttered.

“Well...” She clasped her hands in front of her. “You  _ are _ trying, brother. Mistakes... are alright.” That was what Eliza had said, wasn’t it?

Mordenna looked back at her, and she could hardly believe her eyes. She’d never seen a smile so genuine out of him. “—yeah. I’m trying.” The moment was broken when a message flashed on both screens, and his attention was brought back to them. Righting himself in his chair, he picked up his datapad. “Well! The download’s finished. Probably best we get the hell out of here, yeah?”

Fal-Mai bobbed her head, shifting to stand on her feet properly. “Let us head home.”

 

* * *

 

“Hey Lily, do I... snap off too easily?”

It had been a day or so after Fal-Mai and Mordenna arrived home, successful in their action. Mordenna had quickly taken his place back in the Workshop once Sammy cleared him for injuries, leaving Fal-Mai in the Infirmary to get her shards extracted.

Which left Mordenna putting the final touches on the noise-dampening headpiece for Fal-Mai as Lily was getting started drawing up a facemask. Mordenna had gotten rather introspective, regarding what he’d said to Fal-Mai, and Lily was getting closer and closer to being a trusted confidant.

Lily looked up from her blueprint paper, pen in hand. “In my experience? Maybe. That time you went off at Eliza might count.”

Mordenna sighed, picking up the headpiece and inspecting it. “Yeah. Suppose it does.”

“Why do you ask, if...  _ I _ can ask.”

Mordenna gestured vaguely with a free hand. “We might’ve made it back from the mission Eliza sent us out on all fine and dandy, but Fal-Mai and I kind of clashed out there. I know siblings are  _ probably _ supposed to fight but the more I think about it?” He threw his hand out. “She said it herself. She was just asking questions. Granted, with all the subtlety of an ICBM, but still.”

Lily was quiet for a second, then resumed her work. “If I had to put my two cents in? She’s, like, one year old, Mords. She’s mature, but still has some basic things to learn. I don’t think Helena programmed societal subtleties into her, either.” She groaned. “The ability to play the harp, though?  _ Apparently _ that was critical.”

Mordenna sat up a bit more, previous topic drifting off. “Wait. Seriously?”

“Yeah! I read over her file just because of how  _ angry _ I was and the amount of superfluous shit Helena put in there is mind-boggling.” Lily always did get a bit more colorful when it was just her and Mordenna in the Workshop. Engineer solidarity, perhaps. “Not just the harp. Cello, flute, clarinet, and the violin.  _ Seriously. _ ”

“... I think I know why.” Mordenna set his project down, turning to face Lily. “It’s because Fal-Mai was made to one-up me and my brother—and Odin and Cronus in turn—in ways she thought was necessary. But—” He threw his hands up. “As far as I know, Cronus  _ didn’t _ program Jax to play the violin and piano! He, like the pompous giant he is, learned how to play those himself!”

Lily stared at him with clear disgust for Helena, shaking her head. “I... I feel sorry for you guys. I  _ am _ sorry for you guys. I think of having any one of them as parents for a second and I want to puke.”

Mordenna gave a bitter chuckle. “Yeah? Yeah. Be glad you don’t. So, anything else we can laugh at Helena about in there or is it all tragic?”

She reached over for a datapad. “That was just off the top of my head. I think I remember something else— _ yeah. _ Helena had like, all of her measurements down to the exact millimeter. And the  _ comments _ she makes in here are absolutely maddening. I’ll spare you the details but it’s like she felt that she had to justify each and every change she made and she goes on and on about ‘perfection’ just about every other line.”

“Not that perfection  _ exists, _ ” Mordenna muttered, getting a twinge of apology for his sister.

“I  _ know! _ ” Lily exclaimed. “The Elders chasing something as shitty and impossible as ‘perfection’ just suits them, but it’s bullshit that you guys had to deal with it.”

Man. Would Eliza ever stop being right? Having Lily there and basically constantly going “that’s fucked up” at every new thing she learned that the Chosen had to go through was validating. He’d thought he’d never want to talk about again, but complaining about it? There was a charm to it. “I’m glad  _ someone _ understands.”

Lily looked as if she was about to go more on about the subject, but it seemed something in Mordenna’s last statement clicked with her. She looked him over, studying him. “Let me guess. Fal-Mai was questioning you wanting to get better for that reason?”

“Nail on the head,” he grumbled, “though I don’t think she quite meant it that way. She was just asking why I’d want to get better when past me would be happy to salt the earth, torch it, nuke it from a distance and then sell the remains off on the Black Market.”

She threw up her eyebrows at the extended metaphor. “Pretty precise, there, but can you blame her?”

He groaned quietly. “No, not really. And it makes me feel like shit that I blew up at her then.”

“Did you apologize?”

He nodded. “Yeah. After she did, because it seemed like she wanted to take some of the blame for me going off at her. I wanted to apologize first, but she beat me to the punch.” Didn’t help that there was a part of his brain that had been justifying his anger and venom, making him hold off until Fal-Mai took the first move.

“Well, it’s a step in the right direction. I think, and I mean this as nicely as can be, you need to put some of that ‘infinite patience’ to use.”

“It’s not  _ patience _ I’m deficient with,” he said somewhat sourly, “it’s  _ tolerance. _ I can wait as long as is necessary for things to be set into motion, but the minute someone bugs me about it? All out the window. Odin raised me to be a creature of spite, which kind of goes hand-in-hand with the infinite patience. You want tolerance, you ask Eliza.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Lily mused, “but, still. Tolerance, then. Maybe you still have some stuff to learn.”

“Not denying that. Always new stuff to learn. It’s whether if I’m interested to learn it or not that’s the sticking point.” He paused. “... not to say I’m not interested in learning tolerance. Seems like it’d help on the road ahead.”

“In my experience,” she said, picking up her pen again and setting her datapad to the side, “it’s stopping to think about why someone might be saying something like that or asking that kind of question. Just taking a second to think, y’know? With that brain of yours, I’m not accusing you of doing anything thoughtlessly. But if I had to take a page out of the Commander’s book, I’d say consider what you want to say before you say it.”

Mordenna nodded, running a thumb over his hand. “Got it. Might help.” His eyes flickered about a bit. “—thanks, Lily.”

“No problem. How’s work coming on the headphones?”

Mordenna turned back to his work, picking it up and examining it. It was as he had hypothesized a while ago—a headpiece like the one Fal-Mai was wearing, except it would dampen sounds above a certain decibel level. Mordenna had reinforced it as much as possible without sacrificing Fal-Mai’s ability to hear, but he had to make it minimal around the ears. His eyes focused on a spot of paint he’d missed. That wouldn’t do. His bench didn’t have the paints. Reaching backwards, he waggled his fingers. “Sis. Paint me.”

It was silent for a second, and it was about a half second later that Mordenna realized what he’d said.  _ Sis. _ Did he really consider Lily that much of a sister? He looked back to Lily’s equally amused, equally surprised face. Soon, it broke out into a goofy grin, and she reached into a drawer, tossing him some pigments. “Sure,  _ bro. _ I’ve got you.”

Mordenna snickered, turning back towards his work. Having Lily as a sister wasn’t such a bad outcome, in his book. Not like  he was interested in her as he was Eliza... as much as he’d wish such thoughts would kick it.  _ We’ve run the numbers. It’s statistically impossible for her to be into you, or react well at all to any sort of confession you might field. _ He could run the numbers all he wanted—there was a tiny voice of hope in his mind urging him to just  _ give it a try. _ Then what? Live with the possibility and awkwardness of a failed confession? “Hard pass,” he muttered.

“You say something, Mords?”

He shook his head. “Technically yes, but just talking to myself, again.”

“Fair enough.” There was another moment of silence where Mordenna thought the Workshop was going to lapse into quiet hours of work, until Lily asked what she did next. “Oh, yeah. You go and see your brother yet? He’s out now.”

Mordenna shot up. “ _ What? _ ”


	29. Hesitance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jax makes the decision to join XCOM, but fears his heart may not be fully in it.

By the time Eliza had walked through the door of his cell, Jax had expected to have his mind made up. He’d expected to know firmly where he stood on the matter of joining XCOM, and resolute in his decision to do so.

But even as the door was sliding open to reveal Eliza beyond, Jax still wasn’t fully sure if he wanted to do this. He had a  _ lot _ of reasons to join. His dear congregation was there, there was the chance to possible reconcile with his siblings—which appealed to him in a strange way he could not put a finger on—and the chance to study psionic powers the likes of which he had never seen in the Commander. There were other reasons, too—but thinking over them made the very same part of him that was making this decision non-unanimous kick a fuss.

Still, despite his relative indecisiveness, when Eliza nodded at him, he rose from his sitting position. “Commander. Are my five days finally concluded?”

“They certainly are.” She took a moment to fully step in. “How’re you holding up, by the by?”

“Assuredly better than before. I would almost half-assume that Maria wishes to lodge with me here, by the frequency of her visits.” Even as much as he brought it up, he didn’t mind in the least. Having Maria to come in and check on him was keeping his spirits up.

“Good to hear! Hate to beat around the bush, of course, but I wanted to make sure you were alright.” Eliza gestured to him. “So. What’s your decision?”

In response, Jax crossed his arms, tapping a finger. He would’ve preferred to be fully decided on the matter—it was best, in his eyes, to move forward without doubt and to believe in what he was doing wholly. Goodness knows it had dismantled him before. Did he want to do this? He certainly  _ wanted _ to. Things still held him back, but... it felt as if it was the best course of action, for now. Perhaps after the war was over and Jax had built up trust with Eliza, he could go his own way with his followers.

Eventually, Jax gave a shallow nod. “I have given it much thought, Commander, and I will be honest; I still possess my reservations. However, it would take a man blinder than I to not see the benefits of this offer you have proposed. Yes, Commander. I will join with your forces.”

The way Eliza smiled alleviated one or two concerns, it felt like. “That makes me happy to hear, Jax. I’m just going to run one or two things by you—standard fare, basically what I’ve told your brother and sister. Firstly, and this is just because I told the others, try to be on your best behavior, alright? I’m certainly not asking for perfection; just try not to intentionally antagonize anyone and we should be good.”

He waved it off. “I fancy no conflict with your soldiers, Commander—and since  _ Mordenna _ of all people has suggested I be kinder to my own siblings, I feel challenged to set an example, there. I believe you will find my cooperation well.”

Eliza bobbed her head. “Good to know. Secondly—well, I’ve already given you the whole rundown about coming to me for help, and you’ve seen I’m no stranger to leaping in there myself if need be.”

The Commander’s strange altruism regarding his  _ incident _ still baffled him. Maria, he could understand. His followers, he could understand. But the Commander of XCOM? A woman who had not many dealings with him outside of the nuisance he was? Why would she rush to his aid? Jax shook his head, dismissing the line of thought. “As I know.”

“My point being, like everyone else, I’m going to have a communicator made for you so you can tune in during missions and the like. Also, just... feel free to approach me during the day, alright?” Eliza’s face softened as she went on. “It’s ok to need help. Everyone needs it, eventually.”

Before he could stop it, Jax could feel the contrarian aspect of him rising. “To need to  _ break down _ marks a deficiency of being, Commander.” He blew a breath out of his nose. “And to give into it... a further fracture of the self.”

Eliza didn’t seem to mind the rebuttal, as she came in quick with one of her own. “Needing to break down means you’ve gone so long ignoring the warning lights that your body  _ forces _ you to take a break, Jax. If you take breaks and care for yourself before then, you can avoid this ‘fracture of the self.’”

It was with a begrudging admittance that Jax’s more argumentative side could see her point. Deflating a little, he successfully wrestled it down—though of course, he knew he had to play it off. “Perhaps. I will take it into account, Commander. Do you have anything else to clear by me?”

Eliza seemed to think for a moment, then went “ah” as she hit upon something. “Two things, actually. Firstly, would you like your own room? We’ve got a few rooms kicking around on the Avenger we’ve been mostly using for storage—and even then, we can condense the rooms. Lily thinks there might be a ‘basement’ area in the ship she can clear out, and honestly I’m all for that...” She shook her head, getting back on track. “Anyway, my point being is that we can easily accommodate you.”

Jax nodded. “I would find that well, Commander. I’ve no need to sleep, but can still find it pleasant.” He... almost wanted to ask if there was a room big enough to revive the Studio in, but he somewhat doubted it. Best not to ask so much out of the gate—and he could always survey the area himself, when given the chance. “Your second point?”

“Mhm. I believe I remember you being possibly interested in helping me out with my psionics?”

Of course. His curiosity renewed, he regarded her. “—indeed. Yours of are a variety that I must agree with the Templars; they should be observed, and most of all, trained. If I am to take up lodging with you, I suppose I will give that goodwill back by guiding you through mastering your psionics. We can begin at your earliest convenience.” He paused. Even now, he could feel the lack of his amps on his head. “... I will, of course, require my amplifiers back, as well. I am accustomed to training with them on.”

“No trouble. I can swing you by the Workshop as I walk you out—it’s where we have them locked up at the moment. Safety’s sake, I’m sure you understand.” She spread her arms out. “That was about all I had for you, Jax. Any questions?”

After a moment’s thought, he shook his head. “No questions, Commander, thought I am sure I will have them later.”

“When you’ve got them, you can ask. Otherwise...” She grinned. “Welcome to XCOM, Jax. We’re glad to have you. Now—can I take you over to the Workshop so you can get your belongings? I don’t think we can begin with my training today, sadly, but I’ve got an open block tomorrow after my workout session that could be used for it.”

Well, his guess of her maintaining her form was correct. Thanks to the genetic modifications Cronus had performed, Jax would never need to maintain his figure—and indeed, he could not improve it any further, either. “Very well, Commander. Give me a precise time later and I will be able to show you to potential you hold. As for my belongings...” He inclined his head at her. “Lead the way. I have long wanted to stretch my legs.”

“I’d be happy to help you out. Right this way.” With that, Eliza hit the panel on the wall and the door opened. He watched her walk out, and he followed after her. Some thoughts caught up to him as he stepped off—Eliza’s hair had white streaks in her bangs. Was that a sign of her age, or a hint at her latent psionics? The light blue flecks in her eyes could also have foreshadowed it. Though, knowing her psionics were blue, it led Jax to another thought—

—or, it would’ve, had he not banged his head on the top of the doorframe. Stumbling back, he held off a curse that his dignity wouldn’t allow, rubbing his forehead. He’d... gotten distracted, and he was used to most doorways accommodating for him—or, at the very least, them being noticeably small enough that he knew he had to duck. The Avenger’s doors were just tall enough to catch him off guard. He was able to catch Eliza turning around before the door closed after her. It was a short moment before it was open again, Eliza leaned over and presumably keeping a hand on it. “You alright there, Jax?”

“Perfectly fine,” he muttered, this time properly ducking under the doorway. “Let us forget this happened.”

With a gentle chuckle, Eliza went back to leading the way. “Fair enough, I can do that. Just give me a second here.” Eliza pressed a finger to her ear. “Lily? You in your Workshop?” A pause, presumably for a reply. “Alright. Jax and I are swinging down for his personal effects and I figured you’d like to know so you can have the key handy. Alright? ... alright. We’ll be there soon.” Her hand fell. “Just letting Lily know we’re going to be down there so we can get ready. No unexpected surprises, and all.”

Jax nodded. “Understood. I would hardly wish to scare the daylights out of someone—that is more my brother’s territory. I would not be surprised if he now knows I am coming down... and if his new missions would be to scare the daylights out of  _ me. _ ”

“Actually,” Eliza said, stepping out of the room and checking to make sure Jax made it past the door this time, “he’s out on a mission with his sister, at the moment. Or, he’s coming back, I should be clear. We got word of mission success and now they’re in the last leg of coming home.”

He gave Eliza a stare with raised eyebrows. Incredulous, but trying to be dignified about it. “I had been willing to assume the mission to capture me was a fluke, Commander. Dare you lead me to believe you would chance fate twice and send them on a mission again?”

“We needed it done and I needed a loud team for the haven we had to protect.” Even as Eliza was turned away from him, she spared a hand to gesture. “Ended up being a good call, by all accounts. Menace One-Five got the jump on  _ ADVENT _ this time around thanks to showing up early to a potential raid, and Wraith One—I’m sure you know that team, from the amount of times you’ve stopped them—reported some injuries, but nothing serious. More intel, a region in debt to us, and supplies I didn’t have to go through the Black Market for. Wish things went this smoothly earlier. Plus...” She glanced back. “Mordenna said it himself. If they want to try to be siblings, best they try to cooperate together, yeah?”

On reflection, perhaps a trial-by-fire  _ was _ the best bet for the two of them to settle their differences. Some things could not come about in peacetime. At the same time, Jax somewhat wondered if Eliza knew the kind of loose cannon Mordenna was. Quick to a hair-trigger temper, in his experience, and Jax had fifteen years of it. Granted, the first two or so were with a...  _ very _ different Mordenna. Jax didn’t have to ask what happened to that early version of his brother; he could very well say he’d seen the inciting incident. Suffice to say... there was a bit of precedent as to why Jax had never really wanted to ask questions of the Elders.

Thought process ended, he nodded. “That does strike me as an effective methodology. I suppose you are not actively sought out by the Elders for no good reason.”

“I’ve had fifty-seven years to practice. Gonna be fifty-eight here, soon. You pick up a thing or two along the way.” Something seemed to occur to Eliza, as she looked back at him again. “By the way, speaking of age... I’d hesitate to place one on you, considering I was told in a similar manner to this that Fal-Mai is literally one year old. One and a half, by the date on her files.”

... how old  _ was _ he? He’d never accessed his own files, and only knew he was “young” when he was taken and uplifted by the Elders. Old enough to show signs of his powers, and from what he’d read into and heard from his network, that could be as old as toddler years. A few detested fears of his could place a general age.

After a moment of thought, Jax came to a conclusion. “At the very least, twenty-four. At the most... thirty. I’d never learned the last age I was when I was still one of your kind, Commander.”

His gaze had wandered a bit, but when it came back to Eliza? Well, it would take a man blinder than him not to see the look of faint horror on her face. She quickly cleared her throat when he noticed. “Sorry if I sound a little  _ flabbergasted, _ Jax, but whether you’re twenty-four or thirty, that still means the Elders took you when you were a  _ kid. _ That... I really don’t know what to say to that. Other than ‘that sucks, sorry.’”

He gave a quiet, but not dismissive, “hmph.” “The sentiment is lost. I do not mourn for my early years—I have always appreciated the power gifted to me. It took some effort to reach this point, and no small amount of pain.” Psionic migraines were  _ very _ crippling. “But so long as I measure out my powers and exercise restraint when needed, I find no downsides to most of the methods of my upbringing.” A thought struck him, and it made him somewhat contemplative. “... were I not taken in by the Elders, I would likely be simply one more name on a list of casualties in raids, disease, or otherwise. I remember some details of my former life—a home made in a haven, life in vigilance, terrorized by a threat I could only dream of.” It was... strange, to share info like this. He’d only ever stepped around it with Maria, on the small fear that somehow, the Elders could hear through her. By the time he got that out of his head, it had stopped being a worry for him.

Checking to make sure they were alone in the hallway, he continued. “I... understand, some of the ‘atrocities’ that the masses hold the Elders to. But in the end, the Earth could fare far worse. I could have been left to a far worse fate, Commander. There are checks and balances in all things, and no good deed goes unpunished. I do not mean to be defeatist at your ultimate goal—but I believe there is ultimately reasoning and justification to what They do. Even as you have had experience with Them, surely you can see this?”

The silence that followed his question spoke as loud as his own words. He could only watch as Eliza’s footsteps started to slow, and she looked forwards, away from him. Unbidden, he could almost feel a claw of ice seize over his heart. Was he afraid? What would Eliza do?  _ She’s going to hurt us. You asked questions again. You keep being bad. _ Surely these childish notions couldn’t be true, yes? So why was his breath stilled as he waited for Eliza to respond?

Eliza slowed to a stop. She clasped her hands in front of her, then nodded to herself. “I can understand having that kind of reasoning, lodging with the Elders for that long as one of their kids.” Even as she spoke, Jax was waiting for the other shoe to drop. “And I’m sure they’ve got reasons. Loads of them, at the end of the day. My problem is, they’re all  _ terrible! _ ” Eliza spun around, her expression far lighter than what Jax had been expecting. “Seriously! Had the Elders made peaceful contact with Earth, expressing a mutual exchange of knowledge—or even doing what they’re doing with the gene clinics on the surface—we would’ve been eating out of the palms of their hands! Doesn’t that seem like the most peaceful path, considering what First Contact was?”

Truth be told, the only things Jax knew about First Contact was what the Elders had drilled into the minds of the populace once They had established Their hold on the Earth. It struck him that Eliza was essentially a walking relic from twenty years ago—one of the last remaining people who actually went through the whole ordeal. He opened his mouth to give some sort of rebuttal about how “the Elders say that such attempts were met with hostility,” then closed it again. Even as he said that They had their reasons... maybe Eliza was right. Maybe not all of them were good... or even  _ truthful. _

For lack of anything to say to shoot the notion down, he crossed his arms, looking away. “You will have to forgive me for my lack of knowledge regarding events that transpired when I was little more than a babe, Eliza.”

“Well, would you like a basic rundown?” When he tentatively nodded, Eliza continued. “XCOM was initially a program for ‘worst-case-scenario first contact.’ We knew we couldn’t possibly be alone, and figured we had to have  _ some _ sort of defence in place should extraterrestrial life end up not being so kind to us.” She sighed. “And for reasons I will leave lost to time, I was elected as best Commander for the initiative. Thus, the Extraterrestrial Combat Unit was born.

“As it turns out, and probably obvious in hindsight? What we could scrape together definitely wasn’t enough to hold off any aliens that were out for our blood. The first contact we had with the Ethereal Collective was a bunch of their ships showing up on our radars unannounced. The second was the pods. I’m sure you’ve seen the green devices in Lost Cities.” He had. That put far too much context to them than he would’ve liked. The Elders never did like to explain what happened there. “I did what I could—though, arguably, maybe I shouldn’t have. Six months, Jax. I held them off for six months, and by the fifth, I was doing things I’m taking to my grave. There was no negotiation, no terms of surrender. Just complete and utter annihilation of resistance.

“Finally, in July, it happened. Our underground base was overrun. By then, I’d started to realize what I had done just to keep what feeble scraps of XCOM were left alive. I was confident I’d die fighting.” A dark, troubled look shadowed her face. “Wasn’t so confident I’d go down with a Thin Man on top of me. After that... nothing. Presumably they hooked me up pretty quick—as far as Bradford says, the aliens got a lot smarter, real fast. I’m sure I’d remember more if not for a little thing that Mordenna calls the Network Severance Effect. You probably don’t remember most of what you accessed through the Network, right?”

Jax... couldn’t really put a finger on that. Most of his data-gathering had been physical. Though, what of the conversations he had with his former network of Priests? Jax couldn’t claim to have as eidetic a memory as a Codex, of course, but even then he had made it a point to file away what info they passed onto him when it wasn’t immediately useful. Yet, as he thought on it, there were strange... gaps. Places where it was as if he was trying to recall a word he knew exactly, but it was on the very tip of his tongue. He’d remembered even thinking on one of those conversations before he’d been taken by XCOM. What had he been thinking on? What had that Priest told him?

He didn’t know. To confirm as much, he nodded to Eliza. “I figured,” she replied. “Mordenna and I have it the worst—being Network Admins and doing most of our work through there is lending to large holes in our memories. You say no good deed goes unpunished. Well... I did my time. Twenty years of it, in that Tank. I’m just about ready to start with some good deeds to justify that time.”

In the wake of what she’d said, Jax was left with silence. He’d been waiting for the whole time for her to devolve into screaming, to raise a hand in anger,  _ anything. _ About the most menacing she had gotten was when she was detailing what took her down, in the end, and it hadn’t been directed at him. But... nothing. Just a calm explanation. He’d asked a question, a controversial one at that, and gotten a straight answer. Jax knew he shouldn’t think otherwise or be surprised... and yet?

His shoulders slumped. “... consider me at a loss for words, Eliza, and my question rescinded. I had not meant to imply the twenty years you spent in the Elders’ service to be a punishment of any kind.”

“... maybe it’s for the best that it was an implied punishment,” Eliza quietly muttered. “‘No good deed goes unpunished’ implies I was doing good deeds to earn good punishment. Maybe those twenty years...” Eliza trailed off, turning away from him. It was clear to Jax that it would be a statement unfinished for the foreseeable future. After another moment of quiet, Eliza spoke again. “So. To the Workshop?”

Jax nodded to himself, only able to wonder what Eliza did during—or before—First Contact to warrant her gauging her twenty years of captivity as justified punishment. “To the Workshop.”

Things were silent the rest of the walk—which wasn’t too far, as it turned out. Had Eliza kept walking instead of stopping, they would have likely been there before she finished. Eliza opened the door to the Workshop and Jax followed taking a quick look around before his eyes settled on Lily. When he’d entertained the notion of “Chief Engineer of XCOM,” he’d thought of something far more... rugged, for her line of work. Lily was practically a slip of a woman. Still, he could pick out how her work had shaped her and left her stronger, and whatever charm that brought wasn’t lost.

Though, mindful he might be interpreted as staring, he figured he should introduce himself properly. “Lily Shen. Undoubtedly you’ve heard of me, though perhaps not in such a positive light.”

Lily was currently tinkering with some variety of grenade—if he didn’t know any better, Jax would place it as Mordenna’s. She looked over to him, looked him up and down, then  _ again, _ then wrenched her gaze back to his face. Jax wasn’t a stranger to being looked up, but it was always interesting to watch it happen. “—more than heard of you. I’ve seen you in the field, messing stuff up. It’s just ‘Lily,’ by the way, don’t have to call me by my full name.”

He nodded, noting it. “Acknowledged. Though I would love to entertain a discussion with you at length—and perhaps we might be given the chance, now that I am a part of your movement—I am sure you know what we are here for.”

“Yep. Eliza let me know.” Putting her tools down, Lily scooped up a key that was on her table, tossing it to Jax. Knowing that he might fumble it physically, he seized its flight midair with his psionics, plucking it from there. With a mutter to the tune of “interesting,” Lily continued. “Second locker over on that wall. By the way, and I feel like Mordenna would want to pass this on too—”

“If it’s anything about looking at my equipment,” Jax interrupted, making his way over to the locker, “I will meditate on it. I do not doubt your abilities, Lily—your continued subversion of ADVENT’s weapons proves them well enough—but psionics and their applications are a far different field entirely.”

“Not to speak for Lily, or anything of the sort,” Eliza piped up, “but who do you think’s been designing the Psi Amps? I’m certainly not advocating for you to hand over your weapons to her  _ right now, _ but she does know what she’s doing regarding psionics. Failing that, some assistance from Tygan would puzzle most things out, I imagine.”

“Thanks, Commander.” As Lily continued, Jax kneeled down and unlocked the locker. “Like I said; it’s your stuff and I won’t mess with it behind your back. That’s not what I do around here. It’s more like this: if your equipment ever gets broken, or you... I don’t know, want a set of armor that  _ doesn’t _ look like it’s melting in the back, I can hook you up. Though the Commander’s right, I don’t know if I could manage upgrades without some  _ serious _ inspiration. That’s more Mordenna’s field.”

The notion of replacing his armor immediately set Jax on the defensive, but he had the tact to not speak about it. He’d seen the back of it as his Mystics had carried it away. As horrifying a reminder it was, the thought of discarding it sent the more Elders-loyal part of him into a fury. So, for now, he didn’t think on it. “I will remember as such if the need ever arises. As much as my brother wishes to mend bridges between us, you will have to understand if I am not so willing to lay down my personal possessions to him, given his former history with myself.” As he opened his locker, he squinted at the Disruption Rifle. He really had no need to carry it around, and besides... “—there is a reason he gave a master of psionics an  _ anti-psionics _ rifle.”

“... what does—oh.  _ Oh. _ ” Lily seemed to get it, at least. “Uh, yeah. I can understand. Don’t feel you’ve got to, of course, I’m just offering.”

“And as  _ I _ said, I will keep it in mind.” With that said, Jax reached in and grabbed his horns—his psi amps by any other name. Crafted and made for him by the Elders, a two-part set that his gauntlets capped off. The horns were his strength, an amplifying lens for his already sizeable powers. The gauntlets were his conductors, stabilizing his psionics and refining them. He set the crown upon his head, taking in a cleansing breath as he could feel his psionic signature fan out to its usual glory. There was always a low level of animation to his hair, as psionics tended to do—but now it returned to its usual movements, settling him in to his comfortable norm.

As equipped as he’d like, he closed the locker and locked it again, rising to stand. Jax felt a little more like himself again, and it certainly helped him to relax a bit more. He walked over to Lily, dropping the key into her offered palm. “—thank you for safeguarding my belongings until now,” he offered. “I will leave my rifle here until I find use of it again.”

“Gotcha.” Lily stowed the key into a drawer. “I’ll keep an eye on—”

Just then, a noise behind them made the whole group turn. The door to the Workshop had opened, and beyond it... was Jax’s seemingly  _ whole _ congregation. The Mystics at the front appeared frazzled that the door had  _ opened _ on them and there were already frenzied mutters to “close it!” The door closed without any of them entering.

Lily was leaned around Jax, looking towards the door still. “... well, someone’s got fans. Wonder how they all know you’re here?”

“Probably his psionics.” Eliza tugged at the collar of her uniform, seeming to readjust it. “Now that he’s got his horns on, I feel like I’m before a god, or something else fittingly poetic. Probably helps he’s out of that psi-null room, too. Practically  _ broadcasting _ over here, aren’t you, Jax?”

Jax “hmphed.” “It is no fault of my own that my followers would be able to locate me in the darkest sections of the Pit.” He turned his head to Eliza, who was still seeming to cope with his full signature. She looked... kind of charming, fidgeting like that. Someone certainly needed that training to get a little more used to him. “—am I beholden to your presence, Commander? Otherwise, I would imagine my disciples wish to see me.”

Eliza chuckled and shook her head, gesturing towards the door. “Nah. Go see your people—clearly they’re waiting on you.”

With a respectful nod, Jax parted from the two of them. When he arrived at the door, he took a moment to prepare himself before he opened it. Beyond, his followers looked to him.

Spreading his arms out, he let himself indulge in theatrics. “Your Holy Father is free of his bonds. Come! Let us congregate and reconvene.”

The chorus of cheers that went up was a salve to Jax’s soul.

 

* * *

 

Nobody, himself included, had expected Jax’s first day at XCOM to include utterly taking over the Commons.

Yet here he was, slightly lounged back on one of the more comfier chairs as his Mystics buzzed about him, his other followers talking amongst themselves in the generally lightened atmosphere. If pressed, Jax could spot a few human soldiers in the mix—Sherry, he readily recognized. The twin PsiOps were... newer, but he’d seen them before. Their names escaped him at the moment. There were a few others, but Jax was focused on more important things at the moment; namely, listening as the Mystics got him up to speed regarding how things went in the Avenger. Old habits seemed to die hard.

Currently, it was Iris who was filling him in. “—and Bastet and I have done a general survey of the rooms, Holy Father. We’ve both identified a room that Hestia and Demeter can use for their trade as well as a potential studio. Jeanne has run the numbers, as it were, and has reasoned that storage rooms can be condensed if they use a method she has penned.”

Nodding, Jax leaned on an arm of his chair. It was comforting to be surrounded by signatures like this—all familiar, with two or three foreign ones in there, but he could see who those belonged to. Perhaps life on the Avenger wouldn’t be so bad, with his assembly here. “Have there been requests made for these accommodations?”

“Not yet,” Iris replied, “but only because we were waiting for you. We would hardly want to establish ourselves somewhere where you would remain imprisoned.” She paused, and with her helmet off, Jax could actually see the sheepishness in her face. “Also... we were hoping that you may ask, Holy Father.”

With a gentle chuckle, he sat back up. “I am sure the Commander will be receptive to having a set of tailors take up shop in their ship—I can only imagine she would consider it mutually beneficial. As for the Studio... I will see what I can do. I wish to see it revived as much as you all do.”

“I guided them to save what they could...” Maria, sitting in a chair next to him, shook her head. “But we had no viable places to display the pieces, so they went to storage for now.”

Looking around for a second, Jax lowered the volume of his voice. “Did you, perhaps, manage to save the  _ Venus of Urbino _ -inspired—?”

Maria chuckled tellingly. “Yes, my Chosen. We managed to take the  _ Warlock of ADVENT _ with us.”

Clearing his throat to mask mild embarrassment, Jax moved on. “I will be happy to see the Studio raised once more, as soon as I can manage it. Have all of you—”

That was when the far door to the Commons entered, revealing Mordenna beyond. He seemed... a little out of breath, to be honest, gaze fixed on Jax. It was a moment before he said anything. “Jax. You...  _ son of a bitch. _ You get released from solitary confinement and you don’t even have the decency to tell your brother?”

Jax, mildly amused, raised his eyebrows. “Hello, Mordenna.” It was then he noticed the hasty patch-job that was done on the shoulder of Mordenna’s shirt. There was a dark, orange-brown stain around it. “Trying out new colors for your apparel?”

“Oh, bro, you are just  _ hilarious, _ ” he returned, walking in. As he entered, Jax could see out of the corner of his eye that Odette was retreating behind her sisters, cowering. The sight soured his mood somewhat. Right. There was that to attend to... Jax hadn’t forgotten what Mordenna had done to her, but it had slipped his mind in the camaraderie he’d taken up with his followers. He would see it addressed. “Looks like you’re all comfy and settled in. Practically taken over the place, have you?”

“As I am.” Mordenna must’ve heard the turn in his brother’s voice, as he slowed in his approach. “I will not beat around the bush, brother. You,  _ perhaps, _ remember Odette.”

“Odette, Odette...” Mordenna stopped and rubbed his chin, eyes flickering about. Jax understood his lack of recognition; she only had a number under his care. Eventually, Mordenna seemed to remember, as his face shifted to something more apprehensive. “... is. Is she the Priest that I... y’know.”

“Shot at for her daring to ask a question of you, Mordenna?” Though Jax had wanted to give his brother a chance, part of it would be a proper apology for what he had done to Odette. Lacking her helmet, her one-eyed nature was clear for all to see. “It is all well and good that you wish to drop your grievances with me—but your damage far escapes being localized to me and our sister.” He moved to stand, looking down at Mordenna. There was just an inch of height difference between them, but it was enough. “I will concede to fully drop my grievances once you apologize to her properly.”

At all of that, Mordenna seemed to retreat a bit, hands shoved into his pockets. “—I never did give you the full story, did I? Or, one at all.”

“Does it matter?”

Grimacing, Mordenna rubbed the back of his neck. “... not particularly, no,” he admitted. “Some semantics. It. Yeah, it doesn’t take away from the fact that I shot at her because she annoyed me.”

Hunch confirmed, Jax nodded gravely. Odette had been down one eye and up one major fear of the Chosen Hunter when Mordenna had unceremoniously dropped her at Jax’s front door. She had been seen to, and Odette had told Jax... perhaps a version of the story colored by self-blame and fear, but he took it as truth. “I am not the one to begin your apologies to, brother.”

Knowing that, Mordenna lifted his eyes enough to scan the crowd. Sure enough, they caught onto the Mystic trembling behind Jeanne as the rest of his congregation gave Mordenna a collective glare to match Jax’s own. Mordenna leaned down a bit, enough to approach eye-level with her. “Um. Hey—Odette, was it?”

Odette shrunk more behind Jeanne, but ended up nodding. Mordenna continued. “I... I want to explain myself about what happened then, alright? It’s... all still my fault, don’t get me wrong. But I’d been in a bad mindset at the time and you didn’t really do anything wrong. You didn’t deserve it. I’m—I’m sorry.”

The terrified Mystic still had a firm hold on her Centurion, who had her own hand back on Odette’s shoulder. But, eventually, Jax could hear the tiniest squeak. “— _ okay. _ ”

Well. Void knows he had already put Odette on the spot as is. He nodded, waving for Mordenna to give her some space. As Mordenna backed up, Jax softened his tone. “You will have to forgive me for the relative chill to my tone—but I was not about to leave it unaddressed. No matter what conspired to the events, you inflicted wounds and fear in equal measure upon her.”

“Yeah. I was just...” Mordenna shrugged it off. “You’re right. Hardly matters. But, that was past me. Not about to go shooting at any of them now, s’hardly fair.”

After a pause, Jax blew some air out of his nose. He would let the matter rest, for now. An apology was one thing; working to lessen Odette’s fear was another. “So, brother. Have you reason to seek me out, or are you here for your trademark  _ banter? _ ”

Sensing the topic had passed, Mordenna perked up, wagging a finger at him. “Hey. Look. New banter, not old me banter. Begrudge me for wanting to talk to my brother now that we’re no longer legally required to kill each other, yeah?”

Jax looked around to his gathered followers. They were no longer glaring at Mordenna as they had, though Odette had absconded to the far corner of the room with Jeanne in tow. Motioning for them to part so he could talk with Mordenna more freely, Jax sat back down. “Very well. I’ve nothing else to occupy myself with until the Commander deigns to deploy me on a mission.”

“Su- _ perb. _ Hold on a second.” With that, Mordenna grabbed a folding chair and sat on it backwards, facing Jax. “So. The mighty Chosen Warlock, fighting for XCOM, working under Commander O’Leary. How ya feeling?”

Jax waved it off. “Your concern is noted, brother. I’m faring well. I believe I will come to more appreciate the opportunities presented to me here.”

Mordenna clicked his tongue. “Y’know, I gotta admit, I’m surprised. I didn’t think you’d cave this easily. Some part of me was holding onto the fact that you’d go down kicking and screaming about the Elders, but...” His mouth settled into a line. “I suppose an exit like  _ that _ would speed up the process a little.”

Jax glanced around. Mordenna seemed to be under the impression that Jax had cast off all of his respect for the Elders in his joining of XCOM, and the truth was... that wasn’t the case. But he dare not bring it up here, in the midst of all of his followers who would try to roughly coax him out of it. Strangely, some part of him was rather craving for Eliza’s presence in that matter. She didn’t seem to press too much on the matter, even if she was against Them.

Eventually, he settled on an answer that would dismiss the matter. “My decision had been made, in a way, when I had discovered that the Commander had taken in all of my wayward followers. I would hardly leave my congregation without their Holy Father—to do so would be tantamount to abandonment, and I shall not abide by that.”

Mordenna just shook his head. “Your vocabulary sounds like you ate a fucking thesaurus, bro. But, yeah, I get that. I didn’t really have anyone to come back to here—just Eliza, in a way. Ain’t like there was love lost for me with the Elders.”

Jax closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath to steady himself. “Enough love lost, I would think, to punish the rest of us for your loss.”

When he opened his eyes again, Mordenna was looking away, seemingly...  _ guilty. _ What a strange look for him to wear. “—ain’t right,” he muttered. “Odin didn’t  _ love _ me, he just. Wanted me as a fucking tool. Other Elders just took it as an excuse to break out the belt on you guys for the first time.”

For want of not triggering a memory, Jax sighed out that breath, and took to slightly related questioning. “—I never  _ did _ learn why you are so vehemently opposed to being called Ref-Il. One year you answered to it, the next you shot at me for daring to utter it.”

Mordenna tensed up, then sighed himself. “Well... I guess we’re trying to bury the hatchet, yeah...” He sat up a bit more, looking at Jax seriously. “You remember what I was like, that early? Quiet, loyal, like a goddamn trained dog?”

Jax nodded. Mordenna had originally been almost  _ meek _ , after his year of Ascension. Still as frighteningly skilled as he was today, but he was, dare Jax think it,  _ submissive. _ “As I do.”

“Yeah, well... there’s a reason it didn’t last beyond what it did.” Mordenna gestured to Jax. “You fuck up sometimes, right? Not judging, hardly, but it’s just something that  _ happens. _ Well, my old man didn’t take kindly to my first mistake. Lectured me, I nodded my head, went about my business trying to make it right. Then, I messed up again.” Dejectedly, Mordenna threw out his hand. “You remember what happened then. Odin called a meeting just so he could yell at me in front of you. I asked that  _ damn _ question. Then he brought out the belt.

“Whole time of those years? He called me Ref-Il. I just... grew to  _ hate it. _ Especially as the other Elders took the excuse of punishing me and Odin didn’t stop them. So... yeah. I just started going by ‘Mordenna’ because he hated it right back. Earned me a lashing a time or two but I think he gave up on it eventually. Having everyone else—including you—call me by my last name was about the only rebellion I could lead, outside of being lazy and shooting ADVENT troops.” He gestured vaguely. “So if you ever get the hankering of calling me it just to be proper... don’t. Gives me the heebie-jeebies. Hopefully Fal-Mai grows out of it. I can tell she wants to call me it.”

Witnessing such openness out of Mordenna was... strange, to Jax. It wasn’t lost on him on what it must’ve took to open up about it. Jax leaned over, feeling decidedly somber. “... thank you, brother. For sharing that. Now that I know, I will not mistakenly refer to you as a name you have chosen to cast off.”

Mordenna sighed, tension visibly leaving his body. “—thanks. Appreciate it.” It was a heavy pause that followed. “Do I get to ask something out of you, now?”

Jax gave it some thought, and nodded. “Since I have inquired about something personal, I believe it is merely fair trade.”

Mordenna crossed his arms on the back of the chair, resting his head against them in a way that hid his mouth. “... what was I like, when you picked me up sixteen years ago?”

Jax searched his memory. “... You still possessed the same hairstyle you do now—a shade of dark brown, then. Feisty, but I would not be surprised at anyone kicking up a fuss when I sweep them off the ground as I had you.” He frowned. “I did not catch much of your face—there was a large scar across it, that much I know. Outside of that... there is not much else I can describe. I do not remember the location, now—merely that it was wooded and snowing.”

Mordenna closed his eyes, bouncing one of his knees. He seemed nervous, anxious about what he was and wasn’t hearing. Eventually, he came with another question. “... my name. Do you remember my name?”

Jax rubbed at his mouth. That was a long, long time ago, and he’d accessed it through the Network. As he searched, that familiar feeling came up again, and he felt disappointed in himself. He opened his mouth to respond.

“Tomko.”

Both of them turned to Maria. She was looking away from them, eyes on the floor as she hadn’t left her spot. “Your name was David Tomko. I remember because I had told it to Jax in passing before he began his mission. I... do not remember anything else. I’m sorry.”

Mordenna looked at her imploringly, as if hoping she would remember more on the spot. Though he eventually slumped back down, he looked far less apprehensive than before. “—that’s fine. It’s enough. Thanks.”

The mood decidedly toned down, Jax leaned back in his chair. Searching for another avenue of conversation, he ended up finding one. “—where, pray tell, is our sister?”

“Infirmary.” Mordenna sighed. “Got some mag shards in her shoulder, pretty much thanks to me. We’re all sorted out now, but.” Mordenna didn’t so much as trail off as he did stop in his tracks. A moment of silence was followed by him suddenly standing up. “Well! I’ve successfully brought down the mood here, as I am wont to do. Think I’ll just remove myself before I make it worse, y’all have a lovely day.”

“Mordenna—” But even as Jax moved to get up, his eyes bounced off where Mordenna was, and just like that, his brother was gone.


	30. Faith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Concerns are expressed, and are unwittingly made valid.

Amongst all that had happened, five soldiers and a SPARK were gathered around a table in the Commons. 

Having finished up early on her stock check and with no one to see to, Sherry had initially sat down to read her book and take ginger drinks of her water. She’d been not unkindly interrupted by the arrival of Rosa and SYN—Rosa took quickly to chatting her up as SYN served as her makeshift chair. Soon after that, Banel trekked in, asking what the gathering was about. After a while of small talk, the chain gang of Herod and Vlad had arrived, and the group tentatively accepted them in to join in the fun.

The conversation had been going alright, with the typical shooting the breeze going on as Sherry resolved she’d  _ never _ get any progress on her book at this rate, slotting in a bookmark and leaning in on the topic. Rosa and Banel were chiefly keeping the banter going, with the occasional stab from Herod livening things up. With her chaotic life of healing at XCOM, Sherry appreciated moments like this. If only her wife were here.

“—and most importantly,” Rosa said as she tuned back in, “I’m fuckin’ flabbergasted you  _ trusted _ Arsozu to not filch your keys.”

“Look,” Banel said, looking Rosa in the eye. He had his helmet off, revealing his longer-than-average black hair and darkened skin. Paired with a chiseled jaw and pale blue eyes, there were many a rumor that Herod was a chip off of his block. “I was willing to trust him, and I suppose that bit me in the ass.” He scoffed. “Not to mention the  _ thumbtacks. _ How the hell did he get those?”

“He’s a Reaper.” Herod grinned. “You act like they can’t get their hands on  _ anything. _ ”

Banel huffed indignantly while Rosa laughed. Sherry smiled gently. Antics like the ones the Twins and Arsozu got up to really kept things light around the Avenger. It helped stave off the sense of cabin fever. 

As Rosa’s laughter died down, the conversation stilled for a second. Sherry was halfway through opening her mouth to remark on something else before Vlad spoke. “Speaking of trust...” Oh no. Was this going to be some tired topic on the Skirmishers? Sherry leveled a cautious look at Vlad as he continued. “—is nobody else gonna kick a fuss about those damn Chosen?”

The mood, summarily, hit a brick wall. Banel’s mouth settled in a line and Herod looked half a second away from kicking Vlad’s shin under the table. Rosa got contemplative, and Sherry herself? She had to speak up. “What fuss is there to kick, V? The Hunter’s been good on missions, the Assassin’s shown her worth, and the Warlock...” The sight of March, controlled and afraid, flashed in her mind, and she sighed. “He’s got—”

“It ain’t just about what they’ve done,” he interrupted, making Sherry glare at him. “It’s about what they’re  _ going _ to do. Can’t be long now before one of them fucking snaps and takes out five of us before anyone can say ‘I’ve got a bad feeling about this, Commander.’ And I don’t wanna hear any of you defend them!” There was a thump under the table and Vlad cursed, but he moved on. “You  _ especially, _ Herod. That Assassin chick gave you a headache you had to walk off for  _ six hours _ and captured one of our own!”

Rosa leaned forward, eyes hot. “Oh, so Sammy’s ‘one of our own’ when it suits you, huh?!”

“And you!” Vlad pointed at Rosa. “Nevermind Sam. First the Hunter shot out SYN’s leg, then that freak Assassin straight up kills him! Why the hell are  _ you _ trying to defend her?”

“Shit.  _ Happens. _ ” Rosa’s glare hadn’t died. “And before you forget, I’ve got Mords to  _ thank _ for putting SYN back together. Apologized to me and him, too!”

“Oh, well, that just makes everything fuckin’ better, doesn’t it? He said  _ sorry. _ Now I have to drop every grievance I’ve ever known about the bastard.” He sneered. “How many times has he killed people right before your eyes? How many have we  _ lost _ to him? Did all of us just fuckin’ forget Angela? What about Isaac? Are we supposed to fuckin’ forget that the Chosen slaughtered them?!”

“ _ Vlad. _ ” Banel stood up, fixing him with an icy stare. “We haven’t forgotten them. But lest  _ you _ forget, the Commander’s made it clear that it’s her fight. We haven’t seen anything happen yet.”

“So you’re just going to  _ wait? _ ” Vlad stood up to match him, spreading out his hands. “And what the hell do you mean ‘nothing’s happened?’ I sure as hell wasn’t the only one around to see the Commander sprinting like a bat out of hell to the roof. Fuck knows what happened there!” His eyes set to Sherry. “The week’s not even up and  _ you _ had to see to the Commander about  _ bruised ribs. _ Right after she came out of the cell with that psychotic bastard. What’s to say he didn’t try to squeeze the life out of her, huh?”

Sherry firmly planted her hands on the table. Yes, Eliza had walked into the Infirmary asking Sherry and Sammy what they could do about a bruised set of ribs. The reason she’d given was “Jax gives out hardcore hugs.” Sherry had believed her in the moment, but... it sounded like the exact kind of response the Commander would give to keep a lid on things. She steeled her resolve.  _ Not her fight. _ “If the Warlock had wanted to kill the Commander, he would’ve killed her just then. What was stopping him? We’ve all taken it on virtue she goes into those ‘interrogations’ alone. I’m willing to believe what she said on the matter.” She spread out a hand. “What are you trying to do? Make us all as paranoid as you are? Do you think the Commander lied to all of us when she said she could handle it?”

Vlad’s steam petered out a bit, but his gaze remained locked with hers. “She’s said we can ask questions, and I’m sure as hell not forgetting.” He jabbed a finger at her. “All of you trust too much. Mark my words; by the end of the month, you’ll see why I tried to warn you.”

 

* * *

 

Jax had to admit, the prospect of teaching again was... daunting.

It was not as if he was unsure in his abilities as a psion; Jax never needed to be told about the vast power he harbored and his relative ease in using it. He was certain that it wasn’t his powers that might cause a problem. Rather...

He sighed, taking a moment to check if he was going the right way or not. When he confirmed he was on the right track, he kept walking. Rather, it was his  _ teaching _ ability. Jax hadn’t taught in well over fifteen years, now. The last time he had done anything of the sort, it... hadn’t ended well.  _ Far be it from you to lecture Mordenna on “damaging his own,” right, Jax-Rai? _ Settling his mouth in a line, Jax quietly dismissed the thought. He had far more control over his powers, and it’d been years since the incident. He’d like to think he could manage without too much trouble.

He came to what he believed was his destination. Eliza said she’d been in the Guerrilla Tactics School around this time and that she’d be free right after. He’d resolved to sit in on whatever she was doing; his Mystics were busy still establishing themselves, anyhow, and he’d wanted minimal distractions when training the Commander. He tapped the pad with a clawed gauntlet and stepped in.

The GTS looked more like a gym than any image the word “school” brought to Jax’s mind. Sure, there was a whiteboard on one of the walls, currently marked up with some plan he couldn’t guess the meaning of at a glance, but that was it. Weights, treadmills, there was even two different models of odd-looking Sectoids, presumably to be used as training dummies. Almost half of the room was dedicated to what looked like a fighting ring, which he could see getting some use with the soldiers he’d seen. In the middle of the room, using the pull-up bar...

_ Ah. _ Jax had a full view of the back of the Commander. Her traditional Commander’s uniform had been swapped out for what amounted to a sports top that exposed her midriff and workout pants. Her hair was pulled into a simple bun, preventing it from fluttering about as she did pull ups at an impressive pace. Most notably, the different wardrobe highlighted just how  _ chiseled _ she was—a woman of army descent, her, and Jax would be embarrassed to admit that he took a second to admire the physique on display.

Seemingly hearing the door open—or sensing Jax’s psionics—Eliza halted in her workout and turned her head. When she caught sight of Jax, she grinned. “Jax! What, somebody going on sixty can’t... stay in shape?” It was pretty clear she was a bit out of breath due to the pauses to breathe in her speech.

Somewhat at a loss for words, Jax’s mouth hung for a moment before he collected himself, clearing his throat. “C-certainly not what I had been supposedly implying, Commander. I was... merely intrigued that a figurehead of a movement such as yourself would deign to continue to maintain herself, despite not being one of the troops on the ground.”

Eliza gave a breathless chuckle. “Gotta... gotta keep myself going. Old Me would kick. My. Ass. If I didn’t keep doing this. Gimmie just a moment. Wanna finish my set.”

Jax motioned that it was fine to continue, and Eliza did just that. Now, Jax counted himself a man of relative wealth and taste. He was no scoundrel, no charlatan, no Mordenna as it were. But... he couldn’t exactly tear his eyes away from Eliza as her muscles strained in the workout. That uniform of hers did a lot to hide her build, and he almost considered it a shame. Almost.

After a few more pull ups, Eliza eased into a down position and dropped from the bar, dusting off her hands and catching her breath. “Oof. Ethereals did something right—I’m still about... about as sprightly as I was twenty years ago.” She took a moment longer to stabilize her breathing, and then straightened, turning to Jax. With her stomach exposed, he observed an interesting set of scars—one coursing down from her bellybutton, two to the side and middle of her abdomen, and one in the middle, just below her top. Curious... “—Let me get some water and I’ll be right with you.”

Nodding, Jax stepped to the side as Eliza walked over to a water cooler he hadn’t spotted, filling up a cup and taking a swig. When she was done, she looked to Jax and motioned to him. “So. How you doing, Jax my man?”

“Faring well, doing what I am able to settle in.” His room hadn’t been cleared out yet, but Jax had eyes on what he wanted to do with it. “Having the company of my congregation certainly assists me in feeling more ‘at home,’ here.”

“Good! Good to hear.” Eliza took another sip, wiping at her forehead. “Your siblings been to see you at all?”

There was the incident yesterday with Mordenna... but Jax deliberated on bringing it up. It almost struck him as “snitching” to detail what happened... but it would be wise to tell the Commander what occurred. She was the one watching after him, after all. “—Just Mordenna, as of late, and our interaction yesterday... left something to be desired.”

Eliza’s cheerful expression turned more serious, and she stood up from her lean on the watercooler. “What happened?”

Jax extended a hand to gesture. “I had confronted him on what he had done in the past to one of his former Priests that came into my custody shortly afterwards. I had managed to get an apology out of him—a miracle in and of itself— but perhaps predictably, it had darkened his mood. Afterwards, I...” To detail something this personal, or not... Well, Jax trusted the Commander enough. “I had asked him why he did not go by his proper first name any longer, and I was told the story there. In exchange, he asked of me if I had known any details regarding his former life—I could not provide much, but my Matriarch was able to supply him his name.”

The Commander took a moment to consider all that Jax had said, taking cautious sips of water. After a while of thinking, she responded. “—do you think you forced the apology in any way? I suppose what I should be doing is asking just what happened, back then, so I know how to go about it.”

“I do not believe it was forced. If he did not wish to apologize, he could have left at any time—but, perhaps, with the knowledge that I would not wish to reconcile with him until he did. Why I would not do so is perhaps explained in what occurred so many years ago.” Jax moved his hand to the side. “From what I have gathered from Odette—the former Priest of this story—she had entered his foundry to ask a pertinent question, since his login on the Network was returning his standard ‘busy’ messages and the question she had wanted to ask was of value. She began to ask...” His mouth settled into a thin line. “... and my brother shot at her. Afterwards, he spirited her away to my doorstep with nary a word.” Nary a word but the feeling of a  _ conclusion _ to one of his many episodes, back then. “Apparently, the gun he had used to fire at her was malfunctioning, and  _ only _ robbed her of her eye.”

Giving a short “hmm,” Eliza raised a hand to her chin. “And you never got his side of the story?”

Sensing what Eliza was about to suggest, Jax’s hand fell to his side. “Regardless of his reasons, he fired at a Priest under his care, Commander. I would not try to hear what he might say to justify such a lowly action.”

“Alright. Did you consider hearing it out anyway might make him feel better?” When Jax had nothing to say to it, she continued. “You can still hear him out and then tell him ‘that’s fine and all, now apologize.’ From what I’ve gathered of Mordenna, he really needs to air out his thoughts and his reasonings for some of the actions he takes. Something tells me he wasn’t trying to justify himself—rather, he was trying to tell his side of the story. Considering you guys have been party to the Elders, who tend to twist things around... I think it was important to him to say what had happened.”

Jax deflated a bit, crossing his arms and looking to the side. Come to think of it... he’d taken Mordenna dropping off Odette at his Stronghold as the obvious thing to do as someone who had just damaged his own “goods.” But if Mordenna had truly been acting maliciously, there would be no Odette to talk to today, would there? It would have been easier to him to leave Odette bleeding on the floor of his own Stronghold if he truly wished her gone. To take her somewhere he knew she would be fixed and cared for... well, it took a lot of the wind out of Jax’s sails. Voice quiet, he spoke up. “I... had not considered it. You must understand, Eliza, I am chiefly a shepherd to my flock. I had been concerned with Odette having justice done for her, first and foremost. But, I will admit, perhaps... perhaps I could have gone about it better.”

Nodding gently, Eliza leaned back against the watercooler. “I think an apology of your own would patch things right up. Hell, what might make things even better would be to properly hear his side of the story. Mordenna doesn’t do needlessly cruel things, just... cruel things to cure his boredom. If he was working on guns—and I’ve watched him at work—suffice to say, I don’t think he was bored. Maybe he... wasn’t in the best of moods.” Her face shifted, and she seemed to think on something. “If he’s asking you about his past...” Whatever line of thought she had, she took another drink and never expanded upon it.

Sighing, Jax could tell it was a conversation he had to field. He hadn’t meant to hurt his brother’s feelings... and for some reason, it now made him feel  _ bad. _ What a twist of fate. “I will likely take that course, Commander. Consider your advice heard.”

“Good to hear, Jax.” Eliza downed the rest of her cup, placing it on the tank of water. “Now. If I remember correctly, there was some psionic training you wished to embroil me in?”

Former topic apparently dropped, Jax eased into the new one. “Of course, but at your discretion. If I am interrupting anything, I am able to wait until you are done.”

“Eh. I need to give my muscles a bit of a break before I go at it again, anyway.” Eliza stood up again, rolling her shoulders. “If you can stand teaching me right now, I’d be happy to go at it. I imagine someone of your expertise could work me over just fine.”

Not  _ particularly _ wanting to acknowledge Eliza’s possibly multiple innuendos, Jax cleared his throat. “I... would be  _ delighted _ to do so, Commander.” He looked around for a good spot, and settled on the mat in the room, motioning to it. “Sit down with me. One of the first steps in training your powers is to grow used to them.”

When Eliza came over, Jax knelt down on his knees, watching as Eliza copied the action. He adjusted so he was closer to her, nodding to himself. He felt awfully rusty at this... but, then again, Eliza probably didn’t know training of this kind. Hopefully, and most likely, it would not show. “When calling upon your psionics, it is an obvious requirement to know what it is to do so. To try and harness your powers without knowing the exact delicacies of them is tantamount to asking for complications.”

Eliza nodded, offering no commentary. Good. That would help him along, not having to respond to everything she said. Questions, he could work with. Running commentary, of which his brother was versed in? Less endurable. He extended his gauntlets. “I will assist you in calling upon them—you have been in my presence long enough to learn what my signature feels like. By drawing yours out, I will also be able to determine their exact composition and structure, thereby aiding you in the exact training course.”

Bobbing her head again, the Commander closed her eyes. “Breathe deeply,” he began, “and think of yourself as an open, passive vessel. Do not struggle, do not strain against my power.” He certainly hoped the Commander trusted him. He could see something like this being potentially misconstrued as an attempt to invade her mind... but Jax only meant the best. He was also trying to fight off the ghosts of what had happened before.  _ It’s alright. You are much more versed in your powers. _

In front of him, the Commander became the picture of relaxation. With a soft pulse, his powers came to life. Coursing up his arms and from his palms, they manifested as slow, languid claws, trudging through the air to Eliza’s head. He was attempting to do this as softly as possible. Not only that, but he was aiming for precision... which was something he would admit he lacked. Still, it was a quiet moment, and Eliza was being cooperative.

The claws reached her skull and pressed their way inwards. He watched as Eliza tensed for a second at the foreign feeling—something mirrored in the glowing signature he could now find—but her resolve must’ve been greater than her discomfort, as she sighed and relaxed again. Unhindered, he urged his powers forward. At such a close distance like this... he could very well approach a Meld, circumstances providing. At that point, he would have to clear his thoughts of nervousness, lest Eliza would be privy to it.

“Remain calm,” he breathed, voice low, “I have found your signature. In a short moment, I will attempt to draw it forth.”

When he heard no complaint from Eliza, he continued with his task. The claw-like reach of his psionics gently grasped onto hers. In that moment, when they gained proper contact, Jax’s mind’s eye bloomed with color and feelings. He knew what reading a mind was like—even what reading a PsiOp or a Templar’s mind felt like. This was far different. Eliza’s psionics were  _ soft, _ for lack of a better term. Even as dim as her signature was, it was clear there was some measure of power underneath. Nothing that looked greater than his, of course, but impressive nonetheless. At this point, his signature would be readable to Eliza as well. Perhaps she caught some of his quiet admiration, as her own pulsed, and he could feel a warm glow suffuse his chest. These were very,  _ very _ interesting psionics.

But, he was here with a purpose. He could not idly sit here all say and merely inspect her dormant signature. He could do his fare share of looking once he brought it out of its shell. With a pause to gather and steel himself, he renewed his grip on her power and tugged.

The result was like destroying a dam.

Far more power than he had ever been expecting suddenly overwhelmed the probe-like psionics he had sent forth, effectively slamming him and his access to her out. Physically recoiling, Jax cradled his head for a second in the aftermath of the psionic backlash before he opened his eyes. Eliza was now trembling fiercely, hands clutching her head as her psionics flooded out of her. The power was enough to undo the loose bun she had and her hair was thrashing about. Through the gaps in her fingers, Jax could see blood starting to stream from her nose.

Acting on instinct and with the past haunting him, Jax lunged forward and cradled Eliza closer to him, bringing his psionics to bear. But, no matter how hard he pressed them against her overwhelming signature, she was unconsciously shutting him out at every turn. Eliza was overloading herself thanks to him, and it was no stretch to guess that he had to solve this, fast.

Turning his powers outwards, he broadcast a wide distress signal. He didn’t care who picked it up—he intended it to be for his Mystics and his Matriarch, but if the PsiOps responded? He would need all the help he could get. With the rest of his power, he stalled the Commander’s wayward psionics the best he could. Without thinking, he found himself feverishly muttering a hurried stream of “I’m sorry, I hadn’t meant this.” Was there truly nothing he could do right? Was he doomed to curse all that he touched?

The first response came fast, and granted, she may have been on her way beforehand. Jax heard the door slide open and in seconds, Maria was by his side, adding her psionics to the effort to halt Eliza’s. It still wasn’t enough—but they were making progress, as Eliza wasn’t shaking as heavily. He could feel Maria’s go to work specifically in halting and repairing the damage caused by the overloading. There was no questions to be had out of Maria... and in all likelihood, she knew what had happened.

Soon, the doors kept opening, and more Mystics joined his side. One or two signatures he didn’t recognize came, and at that point, he stopped with his muttering. Eliza’s hair began to settle down, and she was no longer violently shuddering. Slowly, thankfully, the power brought on by multiple signatures was enough to calm Eliza’s rampant power.

Jax could not stand to see Eliza immediately, could not stand to look her in the face after what he had done. Focusing on her, his psionics reached out. Though her signature had simmered down, he issued one last command:  _ sleep. _

Eliza closed her eyes, slumping against him and breathing calmly. The blood from her nose had stopped and so had the tears that had began to flow. Jax himself felt like he could barely breathe as he was now party to so many people that had come in to see Eliza, collapsed in his arms. What would they think? Would they believe him to have tried to kill her? He hadn’t meant for this to happen. Not again...

He chanced looking up. Most of those who surrounded him were his Mystics, thankfully. The three signatures he hadn’t recognized belonged to Benald, Pattie... and the Templar  _ Marlene. _ Though she had a helmet on, he felt as if her gaze readily met with his. The specter that hung above her head was retracting its tentacles from the Commander, its job done. Familiar,  _ very _ familiar whispers now surrounded him.  _ A fault, _ they said.  _ A mistake. No malice. Trouble to be had. _

Seemingly sensing his bewilderment, Maria took charge of the situation, Jax complied as she moved the Commander into her arms, standing up. “We need to get her to the Infirmary,” she said. “I need to see to her regarding her psionic overload.”

With that, Iris specifically dashed ahead of her and opened the door for Maria as she ran out, carefully holding Eliza the whole way. The Mystics funneled out after her with a few glances cast behind their back at him. Hestia and Demeter broke from the group, coming to either side of Jax and taking both of his hands into theirs. Benald and Pattie followed them, with Pattie already beginning to say something as the door closed behind them. That left Marlene, unmoving from her kneel.

Jax could only blankly ahead, still left in shock at what he had done. He had learned  _ nothing. _ Fifteen years and he was still as inept as he was back then. There was no improvement, no honing of his abilities. Why did he ever think—

Jax jolted upright as the  _ intriguing _ feeling of someone trying to scan his thoughts went through him, his surprise drawing the twin Mystics’ attention. He turned his head to Marlene, the being above her retracting a tentacle again. Marlene “looked” at him a moment before speaking. “It wasn’t your fault.”

He couldn’t believe that. If he’d been more cautious, if he had not moved so boldly... Jax shook his head. “You... you could not know.”

“And yet, I do,” she intoned. “You became distracted by her psionics, yes, but you set yourself on your mission anew. You could not have guessed at the power that lay beneath the veil. In the end, you have succeeded, and the Commander will be no worse for wear thanks to your Matriarch’s healing. You will suffer the consequences of misunderstanding, but... this is all for the best.”

At the ominous speech Marlene presented him, Jax couldn’t help but stare. She... was absolutely correct in what had happened, but how did she know? The skim she had performed while he was distracted was only surface-level, enough to know what he had been thinking at the moment and nothing else. Her confidence in saying what would happen next was equally astounding. Jax, when he was young, had whispers of what would happen in the far, far future. The whispers that surrounded Marlene sounded eerily familiar. Was she, as her moniker suggested, a true Seer?

Figuring he couldn’t sit there, dumbstruck, he looked away from her. “... do you have any words of wisdom for me, oracle...?”

She was silent for a second before she spoke. “Your brother means the best. At heart, he is worried for and fond of Eliza. Do not be combative as might come naturally—let him say his part, and then you, yours.”

Nodding, Jax numbly got to his feet. Hestia and Demeter followed after him, still on either arm. “... Seer. You are welcome at any time to my congregation. And... thank you. For your assistance.”

“I will join you when Eliza confirms that she means you no harm.” From the sounds of it, Marlene got up as well and walked to the door behind him. “Good luck, Chosen Warlock. You will need it.”

With that, he heard the door open and close, leaving him to ruminate over his failures once more.


	31. Protectiveness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mordenna finds out what’s happened to the Commander.

_ What a life, _ Mordenna bitterly mused,  _ to have to deal with me. _

That was Mordenna’s main train of thought as he stalked down the halls of the Avenger, distraction field wound around him. Firstly he had to go and think he could actually try to hang out with his brother without his own shitty deeds catching up to him,  _ then _ he had to go and lower the mood like a true killjoy. It seemed as if he was destined to dampen things, to either deliver cutting words or depressing tales. Yesterday was garbage.

Some part of him blamed Jax; something he was trying to move past at the moment. Jax had just been curious, and it was a valid thing to be curious about. It wasn’t like he asked just to call to that emptiness inside Mordenna around just who he used to be.  _ You were the one who asked if he knew who you were. _ That, he might just strategically forget in order to feel just a tiny bit better about the whole ordeal.

_ David. David Tomko. _ No matter how many times he said it in his head, Mordenna felt only a haunting familiarity about the name. It was nothing like regaining memories from Severance Effect—proof that Odin had well and truly erased his past life. But even if he wouldn’t properly remember... Mordenna still wanted to know. There was a whole other person he used to be, and now that person was just  _ gone. _ Turned into him. Who was he?

He rounded a corner, feet guiding him to his destination. He’d be talking to himself, but didn’t want to garner attention as he made his way to the Infirmary. Clint... he had to know something. Mordenna reasoned that you didn’t just invade a Chosen’s mind like that and not come away with something. Maybe Clint had gotten a few glimpses, maybe Clint knew even more.  _ Maybe he didn’t get anything, _ a cynical part of his mind went, and he shook his head. He had to find out.  _ He had to try. _ Mordenna felt like he’d never know otherwise.

The walk to the Infirmary was uneventful otherwise. Once he was at the door, Mordenna tapped the pad and made his way in. The interior was quiet, and darkened slightly. Only one of the beds was occupied, and it was where Clint lay, arms crossed as he stared pointedly at the ceiling. Bingo. Making sure the door closed behind him, Mordenna dropped his distraction field. When Clint still didn’t notice him, he cleared his throat.

That was enough to get the PsiOp to look over at him... and jump, appropriately enough. Clint calmed down quickly, but he still held a hand over his chest. “—when the hell did you get in here?”

“Just now,” Mordenna replied. “No joke. Wanted to drop in on you.”

Clint squinted at Mordenna for a second, but eventually nodded. The Hunter took it as a sign to approach further, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Only got word recently that you woke up. Honestly, it took you long enough.”

Clint scoffed, going back to crossing his arms. “Sam says I damn near killed myself with a stunt like that. But if the Commander asks, well... that’s really just the bottom line.” He angled his head a bit, looking up at Mordenna as he arrived at the edge of his bed. “—it’s probably a good thing that Sammy let me know about your whole allegiance to XCOM before you decided to waltz on in here. Don’t know how I would’ve reacted to seeing you walking about without knowing you’re on our side, now.”

Mordenna shrugged, hands remaining in his pockets. “I would’ve dealt with it.” Dismissing that as he had, he moved on. He... had to approach the question of this carefully. It felt a little strange to outright ask “do you have any memories that aren’t yours, now?” “Must’ve woken up with a ripper of a headache. God knows I did.”

“Yeah...” Clint rubbed his forehead. “Groggy with a migraine is the worst kind of state to wake up in. That, on top of feeling like I hadn’t moved in  _ years. _ Don’t think a man lesser than me could’ve handled it.”

“Yeesh.” Half in performed empathy, half in genuine empathy. The state Mordenna had woken up in made him want to fall right back asleep—even if it meant he’d have to deal with all the psionic nightmare stuff again. “I feel you. Wouldn’t be surprised if anything else happened to you with a stunt like that. Psionic soreness, for one, apparently that’s a thing.”

“Trust me, I am  _ not _ touching my psionics anytime soon. I think about using them and I feel like falling down a staircase.” Clint gently shook his head. “I’m never doing that again. Judging off of what Sam told me, I won’t need to, at least.” Clint then muttered something along the lines of “I didn’t sign up for the identity crisis, either.”

_ Bingo. _ Mordenna snapped up his chance. “ _ Identity crisis? _ Why, Clint, that sounds like something you should talk about.”

Clint seemed to realize what he did, as he locked eyes with Mordenna. It looked like he was judging if he even wanted to share what he knew... but, faced down by the Hunter? Mordenna supposed he realized he didn’t have much of a choice. Sighing, Clint rubbed the back of his head. “Really, I already did with Samhien, but... since you’re related, I guess you get to know. I... think I ended up with some of your memories, Hunter. Mostly when you were a Reaper. You remember those, right?”

“No,” Mordenna stated plainly, “I don’t. Does the name ‘Odin’ mean anything to you?” At Clint’s telltale grimace, Mordenna’s mouth settled into a line. “Yeah. He’s why. Bastard decided I shouldn’t keep anything from back then.”

“... I don’t know Odin so much as the name just makes me...  _ angry. _ Frustrated. Disgusted. All those kinds of things.”

“Join the club, buddy.” Now. Clint had his memories. In his pockets, Mordenna’s hands fidgeted. He had to know. “... what all did you get?”

The PsiOp narrowed his eyes, going quiet for a second. “Mostly, kind of innocuous stuff. Hunting, trading with Havens, a party or two with Reapers. And...” He paused. “Something that is  _ likely _ you getting carted off by the Warlock, the more I think on it. It’s kind of brief.”

_ That was it? _ Then again, what was Mordenna looking for? Some defining memory that would tell him who he was? At the very least, he seemed good enough to join in the Reaper parties. Mordenna leaned forwards. “What were the parties like?”

“If I didn’t know any better,” Clint began, “I’d call them more  _ revelries _ than anything else. Big, pretty wild, lots of cooked meat and alcohol. The meat...  _ could _ be better but when your choices are birds, rabbits, or aliens, there isn’t much to go around. I... feel like there’s a certain way you can cook Sectoid to make it taste better?”

“Like venison.”

“Yeah. Like that. Not much there, either, but...”

“But?”

Clint crossed his arms again, rubbing them. “I don’t know much else there. Some faces I’d recognize if I saw them again. I think... one of them might’ve been Outrider?”

“Fair enough. What were the hunting trips like? The trades with the havens? I’m chomping at the bit here to know.”

He grimaced, looking away. “Quiet. Lots of snow. Probably was farther up north.”

“Anything that might tell you how far up north? Kinds of trees, animal variety, anything—”

“No. I don’t know.” Clint stiffened as he said that, still not looking at Mordenna. “Unsurprisingly, I don’t like living memories that aren’t mine, Hunter. I don’t want to think on them or else I’ll get lost in them. I don’t want to lose what I have trying to recount things that never happened to me.”

At that, Mordenna’s gut twisted. One of his few windows into his past life, and he didn’t even want to talk about it? “Listen here—”

Clint winced. Mordenna paused. A small, calm voice that had grown louder in recent weeks was chiding him.  _ If he doesn’t want to relive it and risk losing his own memories, then don’t press him. You know what it’s like to lose yourself. Do you want to subject him to that? _

Straightening, Mordenna sighed and looked away, voice going softer. “Listen here. I’m... bummed out by that. But. I understand. I won’t ask about it. Just...” He wanted to explain himself.  _ “Does it matter?” _ Jax’s words rang in his head.  _ No. No, it really doesn’t. _ “Nah. I won’t ask, plain and simple. Sorry for grilling you.”

It was a moment of silence between the two of them, but eventually Clint spoke up. “... thanks, Mordenna. I’m sorry I can’t tell you. I just don’t want to lose what I know.”

“I understand, totally.” The frustration of not being able to explain himself met with the melancholy of that statement in his gut, and he slumped. “Hold on to what you can. I’ll leave you to—”

Suddenly, the door to the Infirmary slid open. Mordenna immediately shot up straight again, looking towards the door. Maria was just beyond it, ducking under the doorframe and hurriedly making her way in.

In her arms was Eliza, unmoving, with a trail of blood from her nose.

The bottom of Mordenna’s stomach dropped out and he could feel his center of balance lurch. For a few seconds, all he could do was watch numbly as Maria set the Commander down on one of the beds, kneeling beside her and extending her psionics. Mystics filtered in after she had entered, gathering around the Commander and wordlessly lending their powers.

Mordenna’s fingers began to shake. What happened? A stroke, at Eliza’s fitness and age? It wasn’t exactly impossible, but the mere sight of Eliza unconscious was making Mordenna’s mind run faster and faster. His eyes hyper-focused on her head. She was absolutely bathed in her own psionics when it had taken him looking closely to even get glimpses of them before. But even then, amongst the glow of light blue... there were wisps of reddish-pink psionics.

_ Jax. _ Jax had a hand in this. Did Jax try to do something to her? His gut twisted as he could feel himself jumping to conclusions. Did Jax try to overload her and then chicken out, summoning his little servants to undo the damage? Did they intervene in time? Whatever the case, there was a cold fact staring Mordenna in the face; Jax was undoubtedly the cause of this.

He felt his lips move. “Where is he.” Mordenna’s voice was deathly quiet.

One of the Mystics—Iris—looked up. “Did you say something, Hunter—”

“ _ Where. _ Is. He?” Mordenna repeated, leveling a gaze of cold spite at her.

Iris might’ve been one of Jax’s oldest and bravest Mystics, but even she cowered under the force of the stare Mordenna was drilling her with. “It... it was an accident—”

“ _ I didn’t ask what happened. _ ” There was a vitriol entering his voice, and more Mystics were looking up. In his vision, he could see Odette trembling worst of all. The sight sent a needle into his side, but the guilt was easily silenced by the wave of venom rising up within him. Jax hurt something close to him, something that was his that he could call genuinely good.  _ He will pay in blood, as you have always meant him to. _ “Where’s Jax.”

There was silence amongst the Mystics, none of them wanting to be the first that spoke up to doom Jax to his brother’s resentment. The situation was enough to make Maria look up from her work. Though her gaze wavered a bit under Mordenna’s, she largely matched it. “Hunter Mordenna. What happened here was an accident in training and I will not—”

“ _ The GTS. _ ”

The eyes of the Mystics went to Odette, who was hugging one of her sisters. She’d likely spoken up just to get Mordenna out of the room and no longer torturing her and her own, whatever was going to happen to Jax be damned. It was an utterance of fear and terror.

Good in Mordenna’s book. Silently, he turned on his heel and strode out of the room, barely waiting for the door to open before he funneled out like a wraith.

Hitching his distraction field up, Mordenna’s thoughts were a violent storm of poison and rage. One day. Jax had been on the Avenger for not even a total of one day and he had already gone and hurt Eliza. No, he was no stranger to hurting the Commander. But Jax apparently couldn’t even  _ wait _ to leave a mark. If Mordenna didn’t know any better, he’d say that Jax had it out for Eliza. He couldn’t let this lie—Jax had to learn eventually.  _ Make him learn. Show him what kind of fool he is. Teach him his lesson and engrave it into his mind. _

Almost punching the panel, Mordenna made it to the GTS, striding inside. Sure enough, Jax was standing with two of his Mystics with him, undoubtedly telling him it wasn’t his fault and oh, the Commander will understand.  _ He hurt her. He  _ **_hurt_ ** _ her. Blood for blood. _ He would get in his verbal lashings first before going for the eyes.

Mordenna dropped his cloak, icy gaze meeting Jax’s surprised one. “What. The hell. Is  _ wrong with you. _ ” Jax opened his mouth to speak but Mordenna wouldn’t have it. “No, don’t even answer that. I think I can make a pretty good guess. You never dropped the grudge, did you? Here I am, busting my back and literally bleeding to be a better sibling over here, and here you are, lecturing me on damaging one of my own and then turning around and flat out  _ hospitalizing _ the Commander. Where do you get off? I remember you saying exactly that I ‘wouldn’t be satisfied until the Earth is a smoldering wreckage around me.’ Did you feel like that was some sort of challenge to yourself? Did you have to go and see what would cause me to not stop until everything’s salted and burned? Let me tell you—messing with Eliza is one. Good. Way. To do it.”

Jax seemed at an utter loss for words, hands gripping the twin Mystics’ arms. One of them—Demeter— was shaking, but mounted a defense. “Y-you th-think to t-try and lecture the—”

“ _ Shut your fucking mouth, _ ” he spat, making Demeter hide behind Jax. “The  _ adults _ are talking.” With that, he turned his attention back to Jax. “You never stopped wanting to depose me, didn’t you? I thought I was one to hold a grudge, but here you are, doing your  _ merry best _ to push me over the edge and show you just what it’s like to get beat within an inch of your last life. I shouldn’t even let you fucking explain yourself. God knows whatever you say  _ won’t matter. _ But, y’know, I feel like hearing a joke.” He motioned to Jax, his dagger-like gaze never dropping. “Go on. What do you have to say for yourself?”

In the wake of all that Mordenna had said, he fully expected Jax to not even say anything, or get on him about lashing out at Demeter. He certainly didn’t factor that Jax was going to take a deep breath, level a calm gaze at him, and say what he did next. “She was Odette.”

Mordenna full on blinked, mind halting for a second before he could only ask; “What?”

“She was Odette.” Jax balled his fists, as if pushing himself to continue. “I harmed Eliza without intending to do so, and it may seem like an act of genuine malice on the surface—but, like you dropping Odette off at my abode so her life may be spared... I called for the psions of the ship, to come and aid her. I...” He deflated. “I understand now, brother. I know why you wanted to explain yourself. I never wished to hurt Eliza, like you never wished to truly hurt Odette. I’m... I’m sorry. I should have let you explain yourself.”

A thousand responses rose to Mordenna’s tongue at that.  _ Oh, that’s rich, you think you can make things better now? You think you can go all “woe is me, I understand how you feel?”  _ But, just a look at Jax certainly made Mordenna feel like he was being genuine. Plus, a fact from earlier caught up to him—when they were waiting to get into Jax’s room, Mordenna and Fal-Mai both had to suffer the echoes of one of his episodes. Granted, they recovered in time... but that was Eliza, in there, no doubt comforting him. Jax had probably grown attached to someone who would bear him at a time like that. To try and get at Mordenna by hurting one of his own pillars of support? The more Mordenna thought on it, the more backwards it seemed.

Mordenna’s gaze flickered between the two cowering Mystics and Jax. A few realizations caught up with him and he could feel the heat he had been so vehemently projecting back off. He slowly crossed his arms, eyes boring into Jax. “... what happened?” He asked, voice at a neutral calm.

Jax swallowed. “We... had both agreed upon psionic training for her powers. After she was done with one of her exercises, we settled down, and one of my first courses of action was to draw out her psionics. But, I...” Jax looked to the side, self-doubt written all over his face. “I should have known her psionics were far stronger than they seemed. I lifted the veil and... she overloaded herself. It took myself, my Mystics, Maria, Marlene, and two of the PsiOps in order to calm her.”

“And she agreed to this.”

His brother nodded. Mordenna looked over the three people in front of him once more before he could feel most of his anger peel away. What replaced it was a stinging feeling about what he’d done, what he’d said to Jax’s Mystics.  _ Never could treat those little ladies right, could you? _ Mordenna sighed, turning to the side. He really had a bad temper, didn’t he? He just couldn’t help it that the sight of Eliza, unconscious and clearly harmed, sent him into an anger and fear-fuelled state. Jax just happened to be the unlucky party on the other end of it.

Mordenna gestured vaguely at Jax. “... I. I might have... assumed the worst. Can you blame me, when I see Maria practically tossing her on a bed in the Infirmary? I don’t—I don’t want to lose her, Jax.”

Jax gave his own sigh, and Mordenna could see in the corner of his eye that his hands moved to comfort his Mystics. “I as well, Mordenna. It... pains me greatly that even accidentally, I caused harm unto her. I understand if you cannot forgive me for inflicting that on her.”

Mordenna was quiet for a moment at that. The part of him that made him march in and hurl abuse Jax’s way made him want to say that he certainly wouldn’t, and at least Jax had the common sense to assume so. Now that Mordenna knew the situation and could see the similarities... the urge was much less tempting. Feeling his body ease up on the tensed posture he’d assumed, he figured he could ask Jax a question. “Could you forgive me for shooting Odette?”

“... if I knew the reason. I did not let you explain before. If you would even feel like you wish to now, I would be happy to hear it.”

Mordenna looked back to Jax. “It was one of those days. The day started, the old man called me in... and he didn’t even lay a finger on me.” He looked away as the memory came to mind. “He just told me how ‘faulty a system’ I was. How he, even in his divine fuckin’ knowledge, didn’t know where he went wrong with me. He raked me over the coals and didn’t even have to break out the belt.” Mordenna wouldn’t hesitate to say he didn’t consider Odin his father, at all. But, as much as he was dying to say it... the worthlessness that clogged his system when he left that hall told a different story. Not a father in name... but Mordenna had damn well imprinted on him, that first year. “So I thought I’d cheer myself up by working. Had my hands on a gun I’d built wrong on purpose and was going to mess with it when...” He trailed off for a second, but knew he had to continue. “When Odette came in at a bad time. I didn’t even think. Just pointed at her and shot. She sure as hell didn’t deserve it. But when you’re dealing with someone like me...” Mordenna’s voice dropped. “You know the rest. I dropped her off at your place because I didn’t want her dying. Then I turned that gun on myself and made damn well sure it hit the mark.”

Back in the day, when death was meaningless and Mordenna had an endless number of lives to play with... suicide was a form of release. He’d die, a proxy Odin would handle his reformation, and Mordenna would be released back into his Inner Sanctum with a cleaner slate, his head set back to normal. He was still embarrassed at himself for taking “the easy way out” every time and that stopped him for a bit, but... On a scale of what caused his deaths, XCOM was second. He was the first.

He could feel Jax’s gaze burning into him. The silence was broken by footsteps, and Mordenna tensed ever so slightly. Was he expecting Jax to strike him? Was some part of his explanation even more infuriating than not knowing at all?

Mordenna would be ashamed to admit that he jumped a fair bit when Jax’s hand came down on his shoulder. The feeling of touch, even though fabric, spurred him to look Jax in the eye. Jax’s face was soft, his posture relaxed. “Hearing your explanation now, it is even more of a sin of mine to have barred you from telling your side of the story properly. I forgive you, brother. So long as you work to make amends with Odette, you will find no quarrel from me on this matter.”

_ On this matter, _ his cynical side bit, and he hushed it. Jax forgave him. That was about the only important part here. Letting some of his tension go, Mordenna nodded. “... then I forgive you too, bro. Now that I know the situation, I’m happy to drop my grievances. Just... sorry that it took me biting your head off to realize it.”

Jax shook his head. “What matters is that the understanding was reached, and that I properly apologized for never letting you shed light on your situation. It... it took Eliza imparting some knowledge unto me before our training session to realize what I had done to you.”

Mordenna could feel himself loosen up more metaphorically than physically. “You taking advice from Eliza, too? Good on you.”

“Of course. She is a woman of wisdom, despite our former differences. Now... are your questions settled?”

“Yeah. I’ll... go see to Eliza. And go say some more apologies.” Mordenna moved to leave, but his brother’s grip on his shoulder remained.

Jax raised an eyebrow. “Are you to imply that you do not owe further apologies in this room, brother?”

Ah. Right. Some of the Mystics he’d intimidated were in here, too. Mordenna looked to Hestia and Demeter and had the decency to look somewhat sheepish. “Yeah... you’re right. Hes, Demi... I’m sorry for both yelling at Jax and at the both of you.” He blew some air out his nose. “And for cursing at you in particular, Demeter.”

The twins seemed to mull over his words a bit. It was Hestia who nodded first. “Understanding your situation as I do now, I can understand that your words were from a place of misunderstanding and protectiveness. I forgive you, Hunter Mordenna.”

He looked to Demeter. She still looked unsure, and looked to Jax. “Holy Father?”

Jax turned back to look at her. “Yes, Mystic Demeter?”

“May... may I slap him?”

Both Chosen’s eyebrows raised, and they exchanged a look. With a silent question asked, Mordenna shrugged. “Hell. I deserve it. I’d say she can.”

With a knowing grin, Jax let go of his shoulder. Walking over to Demeter, Mordenna crouched down and presented his face, closing his eyes. He’d let her have the shot without his own body trying to react on what his eyes were seeing. God knows she deserved this, too.

The ensuing slap certainly stung, but it was clear that Demeter was still silently baffled that she got this chance in the first place. Rubbing his cheek for good measure, Mordenna opened his eyes and stood up. “Got your shot in?”

“Yes,” Demeter breathed, and it didn’t take an expert to say that she was caught somewhere between a rare thrill and the anxiety that came from striking a Chosen. “L-let it be known that I am the first Mystic to strike a Chosen.”

Mordenna gave an impressed whistle, smirking. “I’ll have to write that one down somewhere. ‘Mystic Demeter: Smiter of Chosen.’ It’ll be great, I tell you.”

That was enough to send an orange blush to her face, and she huddled next to Hestia. “Y-you don’t have to do that, Hunter Mordenna.” It then seemed to occur to her why she slapped him in the first place, and she swallowed. “... I forgive you, by the way. I just... had to get that out of my system.”

He shrugged. “Totally valid. Now.” He turned to Jax. “Since you kept me here, it gave me an idea. Could you...” He sighed, realizing what he was doing.  _ Relying on your brother? Odin would flay you alive. _ He’d better. Mordenna resolved to try and go against what Odin ingrained into him. The notion that his siblings were constantly against him was a good place to start. “Could you come with me and, like, I don’t know, put in a good word as I try to say sorry without Maria kicking my ass?”

There was some part of it that didn’t seem to sit well with Jax, but eventually he nodded. “I... will see what I can do. You must understand if I am hesitant to even reveal my face around Eliza after what I have done to her.”

Mordenna could feel that. If Eliza hadn’t literally jumped after him on the roof and he’d somehow survived, he wouldn’t want to make her suffer him, either. “She was still unconscious when I was in there. Think she’ll be out for a while—you just gotta stay until I’ve gotten my apologies in.”

“That much, I would be glad to help you with.” Jax gestured to the side. “To the Infirmary?”

“To the Infirmary. I’ll lead the way, just in case Eliza  _ has _ woken up from her little nap.” After he said that, Mordenna headed towards the door, opening it up for him and his brother, making sure everyone was through before starting to walk forwards. This would certainly be a difficult situation to approach. He silently prayed to whoever would listen that Eliza was still asleep in there, so he didn’t have to make his apology and also admit to her that he’d lost his temper again. Perhaps he could also try to work on that.

The only sound that occupied him as they walked was the lighter-than-he’d-assumed step of Jax behind him and his Mystics with him. He sure as hell hoped Jax’s presence would help. Mordenna wanted to clear things up to the point that he could stay in the room with Eliza until she woke up. Yes, he’d gotten over the fact that Jax had done it, but that still left his concerns for Eliza and her health. Would she be ok on waking up? Would a surge like that have done lasting damage? Granted, Maria was there and healing her, but...

_ Look at you. _ Oh, great, here came the self-interrogation.  _ Wanting to hang around her until she wakes up like some sort of lost puppy. You’ve really fallen head-over-heels for her, and let’s face it—you wouldn’t have gone off at Jax nearly as much if you didn’t go and catch feelings for her. Is this what you’re stooping to? Falling in love with the Commander because she showed you some decency? _

“Maybe that’s the case,” he muttered despite himself, keeping his voice low, “but at least she’s the best out of all possible options—and that’s saying something.”

“Did you say something, brother?” Mordenna didn’t want to let Jax in on his thought process, but didn’t want to blow him off, either. He wanted his good graces for what was about to come, after all.

Mordenna sighed. “—What’s your take on the Commander? Brother-to-brother, among Chosen.”

There was a bit of quiet, seemingly as Jax picked his words. When he responded, Jax took his time speaking. “I consider the Commander a worthy figure to follow, even if I am still questioning some of my own decisions. She has proven herself to possess a compassion I have not seen outside of my Matriarch thus far, and it is certainly apparent how she has managed to fend off the Elders for this long. Her attention to personal care is... also admirable.”

Ooh. Interesting inflection on that last comment out of Jax. For want of anything else to focus on, Mordenna’s mind latched onto that. The only “personal care” Jax could be talking about that Mordenna could fathom would be physical fitness—and considering they were both in the GTS, that could only mean one thing; Jax had stumbled upon Eliza’s workout session. Mordenna had seen them himself... and begrudgingly, he had to agree with his brother. But, that wasn’t the point, here. Jax was admiring Eliza, and like any good brother, he had to give him hell.  _ Well, if you’re going to catch feelings for her, it seems you have competition. _ Right... that made a bit of Mordenna’s competitiveness rise up, but whatever. He was going to rib Jax anyway.

Knowing the way behind him, Mordenna moved to walk backwards, flashing a grin at Jax. “Her personal care is ‘admirable,’ huh bro? Tell me, was it a good look at her biceps you caught? Or did you get distracted by her trapezius? Here I thought it was beyond you to ogle a woman, Jax. Tut, tut.”

He’d hit right on the mark—Jax looked indignant, and Mordenna’s eyes could spot the ever-so-slight beginnings of a  _ blush. _ “Th-there is no shame in the admiration of someone who keeps themselves physically maintained! Least of all someone who does not make appearances on the battlefield, herself. I take inspiration from her dedication to her physique.”

Maybe,  _ maybe _ he should go easy on him. Jax was just too fun to torture when Mordenna hit upon something like this. With the knowledge that Jax was his backup against the scorned Mystics, Mordenna let up with a snicker. “Alright, bro. Whatever you say.” He turned back towards the direction he was walking in.

A little bit later, they were at their destination. Mordenna came to a stop in front of the door, eyeing it cautiously. He knew he said that he’d be the one to enter first, just in case the Commander had woken up in the time it had taken him to tear his brother’s head off, but...  _ The Chosen Hunter? Nervous? This whole XCOM gig really  _ **_has_ ** _ fucked you up. _ Setting his shoulders and determined to prove himself wrong, he tapped the pad, looking in.

Things were about as quiet as they were before. The Mystics were gathered around, trying to give Maria space as she stood next to the Commander’s bed. Clint himself was turned away from the door, probably trying to catch some sleep. As Mordenna scanned, Maria lifted her head, and her face twisted. “Dare you believe,” she began, voice hot but at a measured volume, “that you can come back without incident—”

“Maria.” Seeing that the coast was clear, Jax stepped in behind Mordenna. “He has made his peace. His actions were born of fear and worry for the Commander, and we have explained ourselves and settled our differences.” Jax then looked pointedly at him. “He still has his own apologies to deliver here, but he is intent on delivering them.”

“Yeah,” Mordenna quickly followed up, “what Jax said. I... really was kind of a dick, here earlier. And hey, apologizing seems to be in, this season.” When he didn’t get much of a response out of his half-joke, Mordenna gestured vaguely and continued. “So, right... Girls? Maria?” His eyes wandered to Odette, and his face fell. “Odette. I’m sorry.  _ Really _ sorry. As it turns out, you girls are to thank for getting the Commander here safe and sound, and I... I really was ungrateful enough to intimidate the lot of you, wasn’t I? Certainly wasn’t conducive of me.”

He watched as they all regarded him a moment, then turned to discuss amongst themselves. Mordenna could catch a snippet or two—”he seems genuine,” “the Holy Father stands with him,” “but his duplicity is well known,” “but would the Hunter of old ever  _ apologize? _ ” Overall, it inspired a bit of confidence. They seemed more on the side of forgiving him than not.

Maria looked amongst her sisters, to the sleeping form of the Commander, and then back to the Hunter. She cleared her throat, causing the discussion amongst the Mystics to stop. She leveled a calm gaze at him as she spoke. “I would be willing to forgive you, Hunter Mordenna... provided you either allow me to tell the Commander what transpired when she awakes... or you do it yourself. This is not something I wish to have swept under the rug.”

Alright. That was a lot better than the other outcomes he’d briefly calculated. Still, the notion of telling Eliza what exactly he’d done didn’t sound like a prospect he’d jump at... but better he tell her than Maria did it, in his mind. He nodded. “I’ll do it myself when she wakes up. She needs to hear it, anyway.”

Looking a touch surprised, but not by much, Maria relaxed. “Then I forgive you, Mordenna. Sisters?” The current congregation nodded. Mordenna almost wanted to breathe a sigh of relief.

Instead of doing that, he clasped his hands together in front of him. “Good to hear, good to hear. Would you mind me hanging around? I’d like to let Eliza know as soon as possible.” That was one reason, at least, and the only reason he was fine with telling them. He’d tease Jax over his attraction to Eliza, but no word on his own.

Maria shook her head. “I find it well that you wish to remain. Simply allow me my space to monitor her.”

“Splendid!” With that, he turned back to Jax, who was looking upon the Commander’s sleeping form with hesitance. “Bro?” That seemed to snap him out of it, and Jax looked to Mordenna. “You gonna hang around, or?”

Jax shook his head rather quickly. “I—I have... other things, to attend to. The clearing out of my own personal space, for one—and on the topic of space, I need not further crowd the Infirmary with my presence. No doubt, the rest of my followers will wish to see me, and that could greatly bloat this room’s numbers. I will abstain, for now.”

That definitely didn’t sound like Jax’s main reasons for not staying... but then again, Mordenna knew exactly why he didn’t want to stick around. Maybe he needed this space. Mordenna inclined his head towards his brother. “Alright. I’ll have someone let you know when she’s awake and kicking. If you see Fal-Mai, tell her what’s going on, yeah?”

He nodded. “I will if she appears in front of me... but knowing our sister and her abilities, I would not be surprised if she was in this very room, ensuring the Commander’s safe awakening as well.” A poignant silence followed. If Fal-Mai was there, she wasn’t making herself known. When it was clear she wasn’t going to show, Jax turned towards the door. He caught what looked like a flash of pain on Jax’s face, but he hid it well. Must’ve been a lot of psionics he used, getting Eliza under. He was probably feeling a migraine coming on. “But I digress. Farewell, brother. Keep watch over the Commander.”

“Don’t gotta tell me twice.” With that, Mordenna watched Jax leave, and after a moment of hesitation, the tailor twins filtered out after him, as well. Mordenna took the chance to find an open spot on one of the beds near Eliza and occupy it himself. He sat on it cross-legged, keeping his eyes trained on the Commander’s sleeping face.

Truth be told, she looked kind of... tense. Her eyelids were pushed together a little bit more than normal, and Mordenna’s sight could pick out her eyebrows straining. Well, Mordenna could related. When he got psionically knocked out, he didn’t exactly have the best of dreams, either. He could understand why the Commander might be feeling a bit under the weather at the moment. Still, he’d keep watch for any changes.

Something occurred to him, and he focused on Maria out of the corner of his eye. “Did you let either of the medics know about this? This strikes me as the type of thing they’d like to know about.” Or Bradford, for that matter. Man, either Jax, Eliza, or both of them were in for it when she woke up, if he knew the man well at all.

Maria shook her head. “Unfortunately, not yet.”

“There’s an emergency button on the beds.”

He watched as Maria looked over to Clint, who had just spoken. Bending over, Maria sought it out before Mordenna could hear something click, and the pad next to the bed lit up with a confirmation notice regarding the message. “Well,” he added, “they know now, at least.” At least, they knew to come in. Shouldn’t be too long.

Eliza’s face tensed further. Mordenna was still intently observing her, waiting for any moment that he might have to do...  _ something. _ He didn’t quite know what.  _ I’ll burn that bridge when I get to it, _ he resolved. He... kind of wished he could be closer to her.  _ Oh, what, you want to lay down next to her and tell her everything’s going to be alright? _ Well, actually, that didn’t sound half bad, so long as he could vacate everyone from the room.  _ You’re pathetic. _ That was an established fact. Would his brain do anything else with it, was the question.

He kept watching. At some point, Maria turned away to talk with one of the Mystics. He was the only one with eyes on Eliza at the moment. But, hell, he could deal with that. He’d waited hours in place on hunts before. This was practically nothing. Not like much was distracting him or anything was out to get him, after all.

Eliza’s eyes shot open.  _ Well, good morning, sleepyhead, _ Mordenna wanted to quip... but there was something wrong. Eliza’s eyes were wide open and she wasn’t moving a muscle. Mordenna saw her eyes flicker over to him, and then distinctly focus on something just above her chest. Gears in his head were turning. This had to be some sort of condition, he could swear he’d seen something on it before. If she were properly awake, she’d be moving around and talking, right?

He got off the bed, walking over to her and putting a hand on her shoulder. “Lizzie?”

All at once, whatever spell she was under seemed to break. Her hands flew to his and she squeezed them, taking in a gasping breath. It was enough to draw the attention of the rest of the room, and soon the Mystics were turned towards her—keeping at a distance as to not crowd her, of course. Eliza’s grip on his hand was far too tight to still be out of the shock of waking up, and she was rapidly sitting up in the bed.

Maria leaned over. “Commander, are you—”

“ _ Out. _ ”

Eliza’s expression was unreadable. She turned her head away from the gathered crowd and towards Mordenna, but didn’t meet his eyes. The grip on his hand was shaking. She was clearly in some form of distress—and when the Mystics stalled, he picked up the slack. “You heard the Commander. Give her some space. One of you, draw the curtain around Clint. I’ll leave after—”

He didn’t think it possible, but the grip around his hand got even tighter. “Don’t,” she whispered under her breath. “ _ Please. _ ”

“—Ok,” he said after a brief pause. “Everyone  _ else _ out.”

After that, the group complied pretty quick. Apparently sensing the need for privacy, Maria drew the curtain around the Commander’s bed first. Over the sounds of shuffling footsteps and mildly muted conversation, he could hear the other curtain being drawn as well. All the while, Eliza was steadily shaking more and more. Mordenna’s full attention went to her, and he didn’t bother to check if everyone else was out yet. He lowered his voice, crouching beside her. “Eliza. Is everything alright?”

Shallowly, Eliza shook her head, taking shuddering breaths in and out. “I—where—wh-where am I?”

“The Infirmary.” Eliza looked like she was in a real bad way. Mordenna added his other hand to the back of hers. “What’s going on?”

With his other hand added, she moved hers so she was grabbing his. “Wh-what year is it.”

He blinked, and suddenly recognition fell upon him.  _ Eliza’s PTSD. _ Something about the whole ordeal must’ve tripped a part of it. With that in mind, Mordenna drew closer, doing his best to sound comforting. “It’s 2035. You’re on the Avenger. Jax accidentally overloaded you and Maria brought you back to the Infirmary to heal you. That’s where you are, nowhere else.”

Seeming to process that fact, Eliza was silent for a moment—as silent as labored breathing gets. Then, she rested her forehead on their hands, closing her eyes. “I... I can’t believe I’m... this weak.” There were glistening patches under her eyes. “T-twenty years and I just... I can’t...” Eliza’s voice was breaking up, and it didn’t take Mordenna long to see what exactly those patches were as they developed into tear tracks.

Overcome by a burning in his chest and a need to comfort Eliza, Mordenna went ahead and capitalized on the idea he had earlier, sitting on the bed and moving to hug Eliza. “Hey. I... I don’t know what’s going on, frankly, but I can tell you you’re not weak. Wouldn’t have made it this far if you were.”

Eliza readily hugged him back, arms squeezing him as she tried to speak through suppressed sobs. “ _ Twenty years. _ I-I can’t get over something... something that happened twenty years ago.”

“That’s the thing about memories,” Mordenna muttered right back, “If you don’t handle them, well, they’ll kick your ass. You ever do any talking of your own about what ails you?”

“I... I shouldn’t have to.” She further buried her head into his chest. “I should be able to sh-shoulder this. Not—not break down and  _ cry. _ ”

“Is this the Eliza that picked up the Chosen because she knew what we’d been through?” His hand gently sought for her face, turning her head to face him. The movement came so naturally he didn’t even realize how intimate it was. “Is this the Eliza who came running and  _ jumped over the edge of the Avenger _ after a Hunter? Is this the Liz who told me it was ok to get upset about things that happened long ago? Liz, Liz, Liz...” His expression softened. “You don’t practice what you preach, do you?”

That was too much for Eliza, who sunk her face back into him again. “—no. I-I don’t. I—” she hiccupped, “—I should be strong for everyone else.”

“And where does that leave you at the end of the day, Lizbeth? Who cares for the watchdog?” Mordenna could hardly believe the situation he was in right now. If anything, it should be him breaking down against Eliza... but wasn’t that the exact thinking that perpetuated Eliza’s stance on going for help? “... not even Bradford?”

“G-god knows how he’d worry...”

“I’ll bet you my left eye he worries anyway, Lizzie.”

Over their conversation, he could hear the sound of the door opening, and two sets of footsteps walking in. “Eliza?” Speak of the devil—that was Bradford. Eliza tensed in his arms.

“He can’t—”

“Eliza. You’ve got to let him know. You let  _ me _ know. The  _ Chosen Hunter. _ ” Even as he was saying that, he didn’t want to give Eliza up. He didn’t want to pass her onto Bradford and simply have to watch as she poured out her heart and soul to him instead of Mordenna. That feeling was what spurred on his next statement. “—I don’t have to leave. But you can’t send him away forever.”

Eliza was quiet. Her frantic grip on him had waned, but she was still hugging him securely, her shoulders occasionally jerking in suppressed sobs. Eventually, she spoke, and at a louder volume than their conversation. “I-I’m here, John.”

The footsteps approached their position, and when the curtain was thrown back, Sammy and Bradford were revealed. They both looked rather  _ surprised _ at the kind of embrace he and Eliza were in, but Bradford wasn’t stopped for long. He rushed over to the side of the bed that Mordenna wasn’t on, a hand reaching over and seeking Eliza’s shoulder. “Liz. Are you alright?”

Eliza shuddered. “I—M-Mordenna, could you please...”

He nodded, looking to Bradford. “Jax started a psionics training session with her. He’d underestimated what she had under the hood and she overloaded herself. He got the Mystics and a PsiOp or two to help him put her to sleep, and when she woke up, she... wasn’t in the best of states.”

Sammy walked behind Mordenna to the pad, running through a few menus. His statement was quiet. “... they put her down on her back, didn’t they.”

Both Bradford and Mordenna shared a look before Mordenna could feel Eliza nodding against him. Bradford looked to her, concern written into all of his features. “Liz... why didn’t you say anything? All those lost nights of sleep.”

She took a deep breath, withdrawing one of her arms and putting it against Mordenna’s front—a quiet sign to break off the hug. Complying, Mordenna watched as she moved to Bradford, resuming the embrace on him as he pulled her close.  _ So. It ended up happening anyway. Woe is you. _ Woe is him indeed—Eliza was her own person, and god knows Bradford had a vested interest in her, too. He wouldn’t get in the way of this.

He caught Bradford’s gaze and motioned to the curtain. “Should I...”

Bradford looked down to Eliza, then back to him. “Just... just for a little bit. I want to talk to Eliza privately for a moment. But I’m not blind to what you’ve done, Mordenna. Just... give me a moment.”

Mordenna nodded, sliding off the bed. “I’ll be outside.” With that, he pushed the curtain aside, returning it as he took a moment to reflect. Eliza... he wouldn’t have really guessed that something like that was going on for her. Yes. Tygan mentioned PTSD. But hearing it and seeing it were entirely different things. The new revelation almost gave him a headache.

... well, actually. As he was walking out, Mordenna could feel the familiar ghost of a headache coming on. Ouch. Jax must’ve been really feeling it. Closing his eyes and taking in a deep breath, he considered his options. Wasn’t like there was much he could do about it, and if Maria wasn’t directly outside, he was just going to have to endure it. He opened the door of the Infirmary, stepping out.

As luck would have it, the congregation was still out there, minus a member or two. Maria was there as well, looking impatient in a concerned way. He caught her eye, walking over. “Maria.”

“Hunter Mordenna. Is everything...?”

“As alright as it gets, for now. She’s in good hands.” He sighed. He still really, really wanted to be the one in there, and his heart was very busy telling him how it was already craving more close contact from Eliza like that. Not his place, not right now. “But as for Jax... I’m getting that very specific phantom pain that tells me he’s wrestling a migraine. You might wanna go, I don’t know...”

He trailed off, but it was enough info for Maria. She nodded. “Thank you, Mordenna. I will see to him.” With that, the crowd followed after Maria as she set off, presumably knowing where Jax is through sensing his signature.

That left Mordenna, alone in the hallway and to his thoughts. He went over and leaned against the wall outside the door, blankly staring up at the ceiling.

_ Sad that it’s not you in there, holding her as she bawls her eyes out? _ “Well, yeah. That’s not something we’re disputing.”  _ Oh, poor Mordenna. You know Bradford’s got more of a shot in hell than you do. _ “Hell, he might be better for her than us. God knows he’s more stable than we are.”  _ That’s the truth, at least. Still, isn’t it awfully delicious to have to hand her off and accept the fact that you’ll never be that kind of confidant for her? _ “Maybe. Ain’t about us, though. It’s about her feeling better. If she wanted Bradford, she wanted Bradford. I don’t know about you, but I’m more invested in her feeling alright than I am our feelings for her. I don’t really see the point you’re trying to make. Unless you’re trying to degrade Eliza, in which case I’ll crawl in there and kill you my damn self.”  _ We both know the only way you could do that is to put a bullet in your brain. _ “Would that even shut you up?”  _ Probably not. _

He sighed. “When even  _ did _ I start this whole ‘talking to myself’ gig? Can’t help but feel like I didn’t always do this.” Whatever the answer was, he wouldn’t know.

The door to the Infirmary opened, and Mordenna stood up from his lean on the wall. It was Sammy who greeted him when he looked to his side. “Hunter Mordenna. You can come back in.”

Mordenna nodded, following in after Sammy. The curtains were still closed on either bed, but Mordenna knew which one Eliza was in. Walking over and drawing the curtains aside, he was met by Eliza and Bradford. Eliza was sat up in her bed and looking a lot better for wear, though her eyes were reddened. She looked to Mordenna, nodding. “Mordenna.”

“Liz. How’s things, now?”

“Better,” she replied. Her voice was more steady, too. “I... I want to thank you for being there for me. For getting everyone else out, as well. Maybe I do need to address these memories of mine... but I’m not breaking down in front of that many of my soldiers.”

He shrugged. “Understandable. And hey, you were there for me first. Only seems fair.”

“Well, I’d like to thank you, too.” Bradford said, and Mordenna looked over to him. “I had my reservations about you, as you know. I was worried that you might not be the best influence on Eliza.” He rubbed at his stubble. “Clearly, I was wrong. For staying with her as she woke up and apparently fostering enough trust that she’d tell you about her sleep paralysis... thank you. It’s... good, to have more people looking after her.”

Mildly humbled, Mordenna bobbed his head. “Not like I’d abandon her, Bradford. She deserves more than that.”

“Damn right. You hear that, Commander?”

Eliza sighed softly, putting a hand to her head. As relaxed as she’d gotten, her face was still tensed. “Boys. Please. I’m dealing with a headache here and you two aren’t helping.”

“Ah, yeah. Psionics got you hard, yeah?”

Nodding, Eliza closed her eyes. “Not as bad as the one I had when I first woke up, at least. If I’d known making my psionics stronger involved this, I might’ve politely declined.”

“Well, overuse tends to do that.” Mordenna gestured back towards the door. “When Maria’s done with Jax’s migraine, maybe you could go see her about it. Apparently she’s a wiz at those kinds of things.”

At the mention of Jax, Eliza’s mildly-joking face fell, and she sighed again. “I hope he doesn’t think that it’s his fault...”

“He, uh.” Mordenna rubbed the back of his head. “He does.”  _ Don’t you have something to tell her? _ Yeah, he did, he was getting to it. “And... I know this because I might’ve seen Maria carry you in here and immediately assumed the worst? And kinda... intimidated his Mystics into telling me where he was at and then verbally biting his face off?”

Bradford’s face set, and Eliza cast a glance up at him. “... did you apologize?”

“Oh, yeah. To everyone. Jax, honestly, handled me being an asshole to him pretty well. I was kinda surprised. But, uh, part of the deal of the Mystics forgiving me was to tell you what I’d done when you woke up. So... there.”

Letting go of an anxious breath, Eliza gave a gentle smile. “I’m glad to hear it, Mords. You handling the situation like that makes me happy.”

“If it so pleases the crown, I’ll keep doing it.” Mordenna returned her smile with a grin. “But, enough about me. Jax probably just needs his space for now, and you... you need to rest,  _ missy. _ I can’t imagine a psionics-induced headache is doing you much good.”

“For once, I’m in agreement with the Hunter.” Bradford leveled a pointed look at Eliza. “You should stay in the Infirmary. I’ll handle your work until you’re better.”

“Bradford...”

“Don’t ‘Bradford’ me. How’re we going to rely on you if you drive yourself into the ground?”

Seems Eliza didn’t have a response to that. She took a deep breath, laying back on the bed. “... alright. But once this headache is gone, I’m back to work. Mark my words.”

“Words marked,” Mordenna shot back, “but you’re not getting out of that bed a minute sooner. I’ll set Sammy on you, so help me god.” Sammy, having otherwise been quiet through the conversation, gave Eliza a genuine smile. Eliza sighed dramatically in response.

“Alright, alright. I’ll take five. Just... send someone I can talk to my way, alright?”

“Oh, Lizzie, Lizzie, Lizzie.” Mordenna sat on the edge of the bed again, tousling her hair gently, mindful of her headache. “I’m still here, ain’t I? Bradford, you can handle her duties. Sammy, you can check on Clint. I’ll stay here and keep the poor Commander company.”

Bradford crossed his arms and gave Mordenna a convincing stern look, but he relented. “Well, I can’t really say no to that. No funny business, and let me know if you need anything.”

Eliza nodded at him. “I know. Thank you, John.”

“No problem. Get some rest.” After that, Bradford walked out.

Sammy tapped one or two more things on the pad, then turned to the two of them. “Commander, please let me know if your headache lasts longer than six hours. There is a sink in the back of the room with drinkable water; keep your exposure to light to a minimum. There is an emergency button on the side of the bed. With that said... please get better soon.”

The Commander’s smile was warm, and made Mordenna relax. “Of course, Sammy. Take care.”

After Sammy left, Mordenna took the chance to lay down in a relaxed recline on the bed. “Oof, this is some comfy stuff. No wonder Clint over there can lay here all day.”

Eliza chuckled. “I’m sure he gets up and moves around! You, on the other hand, I’m sure you’d never move if you could.”

“Why, Liz!” He pressed a hand to his chest, mock-offended. “How could you ever say such a thing! Me, the Hunter, known for definitely not slacking off on the job when I was with ADVENT!”

The laughter he was able to pull from her seemed to make his phantom headache ease up. She rubbed her head, shaking it. “Oh, don’t make me laugh too much, it makes my headache worse.”

“Sorry, Commander. I like doing it. But, just this once, I’ll let up.” His eyes roamed over her for a second before locking with her own. “... are you going to be alright? For real?”

She nodded. “Eventually. Figures that I’ve still got a few things left to learn.”

Mordenna could feel himself smile in a way that he rarely ever, if at all did; genuinely. “I’m glad to hear it. I’ll be happy to stay here with you and keep you entertained, and don’t you forget that.”

With a smile, Eliza patted his side. “Alright then. Entertain me, cowboy.”

As he grinned and started in on a conversation topic, in the back of his mind, he could hear that cynical side of him start in on just how much of a hopeless fool he was. But, Mordenna didn’t care at the moment. He was with Eliza, and Eliza was enjoying having him around. She was safe, and she wanted him there. There was really only one fact to derive from the whole thing.

He loved her.


	32. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Assassin makes a resolution, and shortly sees it through.

Perhaps, Fal-Mai would admit, her admiration for the Commander went beyond mere respect.

It was not as if she still didn’t hold it for the Commander, of course; based on the things Eliza had done and how she carried herself, Fal-Mai highly respected a leader such as her. Her actions put the Elders in perspective and helped to reinforce the notion that they were not truly concerned with her wellbeing.

But... Fal-Mai knew what respect felt like. She felt it for Sammy, who set aside his differences—if he had any in the first place with her—to do his job and even reach out for her. She felt it for Bradford, who kept Eliza guided through her conquest against the Elders and showed a measure of compassion for the Chosen. She would even begrudgingly admit that she felt it more, nowadays, towards her brothers. However, what she felt for Eliza was... different, in a way she could  _ feel _ but not name.

The difference was something Fal-Mai could experience when the Commander did certain things. Eliza smiled, and Fal-Mai felt the keen urge to smile along with her. The Commander laughed, and the Assassin’s chest felt weightless. When the two shared contact... that was when her heart raced. She couldn’t understand it. She had no words for what Eliza did to her. “Nervousness” was the closest she could put it as, but she’d never associated nervousness with the joy the Commander made her feel. There was something different that stirred in her heart and made her want to know more.

The only way to know more, as far as Fal-Mai was concerned, was to spend more time with Eliza and try to name the feeling on her own. She wouldn’t concern anyone else with what she felt—for all she knew, it was something obvious or even worse, something  _ wrong. _ Sammy’s reaction to feeling her experiencing it had to be indicative of  _ something. _ So, Fal-Mai would investigate this on her own, and if it did turn out to be incorrect in some way? She would not need to bother anyone else with it.

With it all in the back of her mind, Fal-Mai was quietly roaming the halls of the Avenger, cloak down. She would normally keep it up, but she was searching for Eliza at the moment. The Commander hadn’t been in the Resistance Ring, and with her recent...  _ incident, _ Fal-Mai didn’t take her to be in the GTS. That left one last possible location in her quarters, all things considered. Perhaps she would encounter the Commander along the way.

That was growing less and less likely as Fal-Mai went on, keeping her eyes forward as she ignored any soldiers that crossed her path. Hopefully Eliza wasn’t too busy. Fal-Mai would hate to interrupt any of her duties—and she seemed to have a knack for keeping busy throughout the day. It hardly seemed as if there was a moment where Fal-Mai  _ could _ pop in without stopping her in the middle of something.

When Fal-Mai reached Eliza’s door, she reasoned that she would quickly step in, see how Eliza was doing, and if she wasn’t too busy, the Assassin would simply... what? Talk with her? Hang around and say nothing? Truthfully, outside of remaining in Eliza’s presence, Fal-Mai hadn’t come up with much of a game plan, and it embarrassed her slightly. She shouldn’t be rushing into these kinds of things unprepared! Though, Eliza seemed to have a knack for conversation. Fal-Mai would probably be able to rely on her to keep things going.

Still thinking and a little distracted by it, Fal-Mai opened the door to the Commander’s Quarters, leaning in. “Commander? Are you—”

Eliza wasn’t at her desk. She wasn’t over at the chairs. Rather, Eliza was over by her bed, her back to Fal-Mai. The Commander had pants on... and that was about it.

Recognition flashing through her mind, Fal-Mai practically tripped over herself backing out of the door as it closed, throwing a cloak over herself in a flustered haste as she pressed her hands to her eyes. Of course. Of course she wouldn’t have the decency to  _ knock _ and would instead barge in on Eliza changing!

She could hear footsteps coming to the door... and what sounded like the tail end of Eliza  _ laughing. _ “F-Fal-Mai!” There was a thump, like Eliza had slumped against the door. “Fal-Mai, I’m,” Eliza breathed, still laughing, “I’m sorry! I need to—to lock my door more often!”

Fal-Mai could hardly respond. What she’d just did was still flashing through her mind, and judging by the heat rushing to her face, she was probably turning entirely orange. She lifted her cloak enough to be heard. “I-it is s-simply a—a fault of my own that I...” Oh, she couldn’t answer anymore, mentally tugging the cloak down again in a fit of embarrassment. She had half a mind to run herself through with her sword. What was she thinking, simply barging in? Yes, she had been distracted by her thoughts, but that was certainly no excuse!

From the sounds of it, Eliza was still against the door. “H-hey, it’s—it’s fine.” A bit more chuckling, then she wound down. “I was just changing out of my workout clothes since I could finally make it over to my quarters. Give me a minute to finish dressing and I’ll be right with you, ok?”

Fal-Mai nodded, realized Eliza couldn’t see that, and then gave a squeak of affirmation. Oh, whatever gods could listen, spare her now. She could hear Eliza trek away from the door, and only then she lifted her cloak and took in a deep breath. Goodness. Perhaps she could’ve stopped at the door and listened, or knocked, or asked what Eliza was doing... well, it had happened. All she could do now was resolve to not repeat the mistake in the future... and try to get that image of Eliza out of her mind. For a human who didn’t fight of her own accord, Eliza kept in shape. A noble pursuit, Fal-Mai thought, but that was all she thought of it until she forcefully hushed her line of thought.

A little while later, and she heard Eliza’s voice through the door. “I’m done now, you can come in!”

Letting the breath she’d taken in go, Fal-Mai tapped the pad and slowly walked in, eyes remaining on the floor for a bit before she raised them. Eliza was back in her Commander’s uniform again... and her eyes were far more vibrant than they had been before. They had been a washed-out blue, but now they were more electric, more light and saturated. Her hair was a few shades lighter, with more notable white streaks. Were Fal-Mai’s eyes tricking her, or was the Commander’s hair a bit longer, as well? Still, inspection done, Fal-Mai had apologies to get to. “I-I must apologize, Commander, it is deeply embarrassing of me to do what I just did...”

Chuckling lightly, Eliza waved it off. “No, no, I need to lock my door more often. Most people kinda just come in anyways, so I need to adapt around that. Hope I didn’t scar you for life, at least.” She grinned. “Though, judging by the shade of  _ orange _ you’ve turned, perhaps I did.”

Oh. Fal-Mai knew she was blushing, but for the Commander to see it was another story. The urge to jump back in her cloak was strong. “N-nevertheless. I i-intruded on your privacy.”

The Commander shrugged. “No harm, no foul. What can I do for you, Fals?”

Taking in a steadying breath, Fal-Mai stood up straight and grew the courage to look Eliza in the eye. “I merely wished to shadow you in your duties today, Commander. I feel as if I will grow more comfortable in sharing my personal struggles with you if I know more about you.” That was part of the reason, at least. Fal-Mai couldn’t bring herself to let Eliza know the true reason.  _ Perhaps part of you getting more comfortable in sharing will result in sharing that. _ It was a hope, at least.

She nodded. “Sure! But, hm...” Eliza clasped her hands in front of her. “Part of my duties today involve picking up a new recruit over at the main Skirmisher camp. You can hang out with me afterwards if the prospect isn’t so grand, of course, but I wanted to let you know.”

That explained why they’d landed earlier today, at least. But, still... the notion of showing her face in front of the Skirmishers was a daunting one. She knew what she was to them—the Butcher of Freed ADVENT. Nightmaiden. A quiet whisper of the grave on the wind. If she were to show herself there, even beside the Commander, it was asking for trouble. Even so, the prospect was promising. If  _ Mordenna _ was going around and apologizing to those who he had wronged, what excuse did she have? If she truly wanted to make herself shine in Eliza’s eyes, it would be a good place to start.

Shaking her head, Fal-Mai subconsciously mimicked Eliza’s pose. “No, Commander. I would be happy to accompany you if they would have me. You will most likely have to give them advance notice, of course, but I have amends of my own I wish to make.”

The smile the Commander gave her was encouraging. “Good to hear, Fal-Mai. In that case, follow me to the Resistance Ring. I’ll place the call there so Betos knows you’re coming, and of your own accord, at that.” With that, Eliza walked past Fal-Mai and over to the door. Fal-Mai followed after her, gently ducking under the door as she did. It was easy to guess that the Skirmishers would not receive her apology so easily. She had been a butcher of their kind for the year that she was alive, and had shown no signs of redemption. It took one such as Eliza to see the discontent after what had happened to Mordenna and Jax...

Hugging herself, Fal-Mai blew a quiet breath out of her nose. She preferred not to linger on the memories of such a time... but all it took was remembering the agony that Jax had experienced and equally, the  _ grief _ that Mordenna put forth in the midst of the pain. It had almost been an echo chamber, with all of their suffering resonating in each other. Fal-Mai was glad she had been left alone to endure it, in a way. Aspects of it still hurt, though, like a wound not properly treated. She’d wanted to discuss them with Eliza when it was clear she could trust the Commander with such subjects, but other things had come up.  _ Later. Perhaps before you both contact Betos. _ Right now, walking through the hallways? Far too risky.

The walk was quiet as they made their way to the Resistance Ring, Eliza occasionally checking over her shoulder to make sure Fal-Mai was indeed following behind her. She did have a rather quiet step, but it almost felt as if Eliza was trying to figure out an avenue of conversation to open.  _ When we get to the Ring. When we get there. _ The tension was mounting.

The door to the room opened, and the two stepped on in. Eliza made her way over to the table. “This is going to be interesting. Stand over here with me so she can see you.”

Alright. Now was her chance. Fal-Mai stepped over to Eliza.  _ Now. _

She watched as Eliza tapped a few buttons on the pad that was on the table.  _ Now’s the time. _

A list of contacts popped up, and Eliza chose Betos.  _ Ask her! Say something! Don’t just watch! _

No matter how hard she willed herself, Fal-Mai couldn’t bring forth the words to stop Eliza and ask her to sit down with her. She knew why—she would be interrupting Eliza, possibly inconveniencing her. This meeting had to be at least  _ somewhat _ time-sensitive. Fal-Mai didn’t want to delay it. Besides, there was the underlying reason as well... Fal-Mai didn’t want to admit the ghosts of the past still haunted her. She had her talk with Eliza. Everything was supposed to be fixed. Why was this still a problem for her?

The screen at the end of the room lit up, and the image of Betos came to life. She seemed moderately surprised to see the Assassin hanging over the Commander, and Fal-Mai did her best to look dignified as she remained in sight. “Commander. Assassin.”

“General Betos,” Eliza replied. “You probably know we’re in the area, depending on how many buildings Bradford knocked over.”

That got a smile out of the Skirmisher, but not much else. “As we are aware. I see the Assassin is with you on this day.”

She nodded. “She’s as willing to fight back against the Elders as you are, Betos, and I think you’ll be intrigued to hear what she wants to do as I pick up my new recruit. Fal-Mai?”

Seems it was her turn to speak. Fal-Mai leveled a calm gaze at Betos. “It is no secret that I have wronged you and your kind, General. I have been a messenger of death to your kind for the year I have been alive, and my crimes against your people are numerous. Now that I am no longer controlled by the Elders and their false pretenses, I wish to apologize to you and yours, in person if you will allow me.” She took in a deep breath. “Even as I speak about being ‘controlled’ by the False Gods...” That was the term that Sammy used at one point, right? “... that does not excuse my actions fully. I understand if you will not accept my apologies—you are owed that much after how much I have wronged you.”

It was a quiet moment of staring between her and Betos, and Fal-Mai felt as if she was being judged. She fully expected Betos to rebuff her apology—not everyone was Eliza, and not everyone knew the kind of treatment Fal-Mai had went through. She did not think it justified her actions in the slightest; she was still Chosen, and performed cruel actions of her own accord. She would gladly bear her sins, as it was only right that she did.

After a while, Betos began to speak. “—Were you to ask me at the beginning of this year if I would accept a reformed Assassin, I would answer negatively. But, presented with the Chosen in front of me now, and with the implicit endorsement of the Commander...” She spread her hands out, then clasped them again. “I find myself leaning more towards accepting your apology, Assassin. However. The damage you have done to me and mine cannot be fixed with one apology after a year of violent transgressions. I find it well that you wish to come and express your apologies in person—but I cannot say that neither I nor my Skirmishers will accept it right away. Rightfully, you have caused much harm with your actions, controlled by the Elders or not. I will gladly accept you coming to our camp to lay out your apologies—provided you are accompanied by the Commander.”

A weight leaving Fal-Mai’s shoulders, she nodded. “Of course. Consider myself honored that you would even consider to accept my apology.”

Betos gave a knowing smile. “Admittedly, half of my willingness comes from the way Combat Medic Samhien speaks of you. If I did not know any better, I would say he considers you a  _ friend. _ ”

That was enough to make Fal-Mai smile ever so slightly. “Since I consider him one, I would only hope that is the impression you receive from him. Still, it is humbling to be talked fondly of behind my back.”

“Something all of us can hope for,” Eliza added, hands clasped in front of her. “That cover everything? I’d love to come down and see you in person again, Betos.”

If  _ Fal-Mai _ didn’t know any better, Betos seemed a little flustered with what Eliza said, but she recovered quickly. “Of course, Commander. I look forward to it.” With that, Betos reached for something below the desk she was at, and the feed cut.

Eliza turned and headed for the door. “Well, you heard her. Let’s go down and facilitate a bit of goodwill, yeah?”

Fal-Mai nodded... but found herself rooted to the spot even as Eliza moved on.  _ You have to tell her. You have to. _ But they’d already told Betos they’d be right down. Fal-Mai couldn’t interrupt this, especially now. She didn’t want to inconvenience Eliza.  _ She told you that you could talk to her at any time. This should be no different! _ Any other time she would just be interrupting paperwork and logs that Eliza could get back to without a strict time schedule. This  _ was _ different.

Eliza got as far as getting to the door before checking over her shoulder to see if Fal-Mai was following. When she spotted her still over by the table, she turned to her. “Fal-Mai? Everything alright?”

_ Tell her! _ “... everything is... fine, Commander. I am merely... thinking, of what to say.”

That certainly wasn’t enough to convince Eliza, whose hand fell away from the pad. “—Fal-Mai, if there’s something wrong, you can tell me. I think Betos can handle us being a little bit late—I can just tell her afterwards that we had a bit of a delay. We’ve got basically all day to go down there.”

Despite everything, despite Eliza out-and-out telling her that it would be fine to be late... Fal-Mai still felt pressured to assure her that everything was fine and they could move on. But, that need to tell her, that need to be  _ comforted _ won out. Fal-Mai crossed her arms defensively. “... there is something I wish to speak with you about. It... it is not related to today’s task. It is something I have been thinking of for a while.”

In response, Eliza walked up to her and gently took one of her hands, looking up at her with soft eyes. “I’m all ears, Fal-Mai.”

Looking down at her, Fal-Mai eventually held the Commander’s hands, walking over to one of the couches and sitting down with her. She took in a deep breath, breathing it out slowly. Approaching this was difficult. It was an open admittance that their last talk hadn’t solved the problem, and it made her feel ashamed. Knowing this, Fal-Mai started to speak. “I... I know this will tell just how little I have been able to learn from our last talk, Eliza, but I still feel as if I am... fractured. Unable to come to terms with myself.”

“Hey.” Eliza squeezed her hands. “Almost nothing serious gets fixed with one round of repairs. If we need to have a few talks on a subject, that’s completely fine. You aren’t weak for needing help—everyone does, eventually.”

While it didn’t remove Fal-Mai’s hangups going forward, it was still soothing to hear Eliza say that it was fine. Fal-Mai took her as a voice of reason, and tried to remember her words as she spoke. “—perhaps that is true. Nevertheless, I wanted to speak of this.” She took in a deep breath again. “I am... struggling, with feeling inadequate, again.”

Eliza nodded seriously, her thumb rubbing against Fal-Mai’s hands. “Anything in particular?”

Fal-Mai looked away. “It is a matter of my brothers. Specifically, Jax-Rai. I...” Right. Eliza probably didn’t know about their linkage. She turned back to the Commander. “All three of us Chosen, we share a very weak mental link. Enough to know if one of us has died... or is undergoing extreme distress or pain.”

The Commander looked somewhat disturbed at the info, but the look was traded for a sympathetic one. “—I suppose that means you felt that, last week, when I had went in to check on him.”

She nodded, confirming as much. “That is what I wish to speak of. It is not often that I feel Jax’s emotions though the link—mostly Mordenna—but when I had felt his pain, his sorrow, his  _ fear? _ ” Fal-Mai closed her eyes. “I had wanted to enter and make sure he was alright. What the Elders had inflicted upon him, no being should suffer. Let alone Jax, who only followed them with admiration in his heart. I am fully aware you were with him, but even as I think over not entering in the end now...” She opened her eyes, but kept them lidded. “I can only think of myself of being an inadequate sister. If we are to get along, surely we should be there for each other, yes?”

After she was done, Fal-Mai searched Eliza’s face, expecting to find some measure of understanding. What she saw instead was a quiet pride. “Fal-Mai. Let me first say that your thinking towards Jax is exactly what you should be thinking as a good sister. I can understand hesitating to enter because you don’t know what to do because of your former history. But the fact that you’re establishing that as what you should do speaks volumes. As always, you’re not inadequate, Fal-Mai—you’re learning. This is the first time you’ve encountered situations and feelings like this, I’d wager. Considering that, you’re doing well.”

To hear assurances and  _ praise _ like that out of Eliza, even as she was sure she was failing at handling the whole situation... Fal-Mai felt no small measure of relief. Although there was a part of her that was still unsure, a part of her that still argued that she should’ve been there for Jax, she chose to heed Eliza’s words. She threaded her fingers between Eliza’s, squeezing her hands. “Please let me say how thankful I am, Eliza, that you are now the one seeing to me, rather than the Elders. I... I do not think I could ask for a better confidant and supporter.”

Eliza’s smile felt like it could melt ice with how warm it made Fal-Mai feel. “I’m happy to be here for you, Fal-Mai. It makes me happy to know you’re happy. If you’re looking for what to do in the future for Jax... if you feel that link of yours telling you he’s going through an episode again, find him and comfort him. I know things between the three of you are still tentatively getting better, but I think it would speak worlds to him if you showed him you feel empathy for his plight and wanted to help him as he went through it.”

Fal-Mai bobbed her head, taking the advice. Eliza just spoke to her, in so many ways. What Fal-Mai had been sure would be a tense conversation was anything but. Satisfied and happy that she’d covered the problem and now had solid advice she could follow, Fal-Mai freed her hands of Eliza’s—just long enough to draw her in for a hug. “I do not think I can thank you enough, Eliza. My debt to you is a hundredfold, and I am glad to be your blade.”

With her psionics now exposed and somewhat active, Fal-Mai could feel Eliza’s signature practically hum with happiness at this distance. “I’m glad to have  _ you, _ Fal-Mai. Resolutely and firmly. Just don’t feel like you owe me—you deserve to have someone looking out for you.”

Was it possible for this warm feeling in Fal-Mai’s chest to grow any further? As it stood, Fal-Mai was teetering on the edge of being downright  _ giddy _ at Eliza’s assurances. It was enough to make the Assassin smile and hug Eliza closer. “Thank you, again.”

“It’s no problem.”

Fal-Mai simply held Eliza like that for a few more moments. Truthfully, she didn’t want the embrace to end. It brought her so much comfort to be this close to her. But eventually, she remembered that they still had tasks to attend to today. With a content sigh, Fal-Mai let go of Eliza, continuing to smile at her. “Now. I believe we have a new recruit to pick up?”

If Fal-Mai didn’t know any better, she’d take the subtle hue of Eliza’s face to be a  _ blush. _ Couldn’t be. “Yeah. Is that everything you wanted to cover?”

Nodding, she moved to stand. “Yes, Eliza. Until I wish to have a talk with you again, of course.”

Patting her side, Eliza got up with her. “Good to hear, good to hear. Let’s head out for our new soldier.”

 

* * *

 

The dark gray clouds that hung in the air seemed to echo what Fal-Mai felt as she walked behind Eliza towards the Skirmisher camp.

Fal-Mai did not think herself fearful of Skirmishers. Before, she loathed them. Now... she felt a sense of kinship. Having discovered the Elders’ true nature herself, she now no longer blamed them for wanting to run from that reality. She knew that they would not see her in the same light, for all that she had done to them. Even so, she wanted to extend the possibility of forgiveness... and perhaps that was what scared her. As at peace as she was with the idea of them rejecting her, the sheer notion of being rejected in her reformation scared her. Even for as much as she thought she would deserve it, there were parts of her still frightened at what would happen, where she would turn.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she set her eyes forward. The camp in front of her was one of the largest she’d seen. Skirmisher camps largely shared the same look and feel, in her experience—squat, purpose-built buildings that echoed the aesthetics of ADVENT construction even in their scavenged nature. Skirmishers, some with helmets on, some without, were patrolling the perimeter. Up high in watchtowers, she watched as one or two tracked her with their gaze, undoubtedly unsettled at the Butcher of Freed ADVENT being in their camp, despite her allegiance. Through the alleys and air, her ears caught whispers.

“She is here. Why has the Commander brought her?”

“What would the Assassin have with us?”

“Why has she been allowed in?”

“She must’ve planned this.”

At such whispers, Fal-Mai kept her gaze near Eliza, doing her best to not make eye contact. Didn’t want to seem as if she was staring any of them down, after all. Eliza herself walked with an admirable confidence, defusing a bit of the atmosphere as she nodded to passing Skirmishers. Fal-Mai was sure that she was no stranger to such suspicion. The Commander must’ve had to fight through a lot of friction as she rallied allies to herself.

Eventually, they approached a heavily-fortified building, something that looked more like a repurposed ADVENT facility than any of the other buildings around. As far as Fal-Mai knew, it might’ve well been. Twin guards at the door had their weapons held at rest—though their fingers twitched towards the triggers as they laid eyes on the Assassin. One of them looked to Eliza and spoke up. “Commander. You would bring the Butcher before us?”

“Only by her own will,” Eliza replied. “And only because I am confident in her.”

“You may be confident,” he returned, “but even you know the atrocities she has committed. She has laid thousands that just wished for peace dead. You would allow her to walk beside you?”

Though Fal-Mai couldn’t see Eliza’s face, the expression on it was enough to get both soldiers to back down slightly. When Eliza spoke again, her voice was level. “If you’re anything more than a yearling, then  _ you _ would know the atrocities  _ I _ have committed. You would know that I was the one in your ear, guiding you on as you fought against those who wanted peace.”

“We were controlled, Commander,” the second guard spoke, rushing to her partner’s defense. “As were you. You were imprisoned.”

“As was she, a prisoner to the Elders’ will. If you want to shoot her for what she’s done, you’re going to have to kill me, too. Do you want to get that out of the way now, or later?”

That sent both of them into an embarrassed silence. The fact that Eliza was so willing to leverage the crimes she, too, had committed while the head of the Network for the Elders was curious. Most would argue what she did during that time wasn’t her fault—yet here she was, arguing against that in a way, directly calling to attention what she did. A dangerous gamble, especially around Skirmishers.

A gamble that paid off, as the male Skirmisher gestured to the door with his gun. “... the General is waiting for you.”

“Excellent. The two of you have a nice day.” With that, the guard opened the door for the two of them, and Eliza stepped inside, with Fal-Mai trailing behind her. The interior of the building confirmed Fal-Mai’s suspicions—under a cover of wires, maps, and weaponry, the telltale makings of an ADVENT facility were present. Near the center of a room, standing at a table with communications equipment spread across it, was General Betos. Her...  _ former _ sworn enemy.

Curious enough was the  _ Sectoid _ standing near her. It was dressed in makeshift armor, fitted for it, with a Skirmisher flag being used as a shawl to cover it. A quick glance at the blaster on its arm told of modifications already done. It locked eyes with Fal-Mai and stumbled back. “ _ Wh-what is the Assassin here for? _ ” It spoke in ADVENT, clear to Fal-Mai’s ears.

Eliza walked over, looking to Betos. “Does she know English? If not, I can manage—my ADVENT’s just a little rusty.”

Betos shook her head, then addressed the Sectoid. “ _ Arachne. She comes on peaceful terms, and walks with XCOM, now. _ ”

“ _ I had known the Hunter to be with them, _ ” she replied, slowly approaching the table again, “ _ but not her. I’m... I’m surprised you let her in. _ ”

“ _ Times change, years pass, the strange becomes normal. _ ” Eliza sounded like she was having a bit of trouble remembering her words, but otherwise her ADVENT sounded fine. Fal-Mai guessed she must’ve picked it up during her time in the Network. The Commander went over and extended a hand to Arachne. “ _ Arachne, is it? I am Eliza, Commander of XCOM. _ ”

Cautiously, Arachne took the hand offered to her. Eliza shook, and then she took it back. “ _ You already know my name, I see. I suppose Betos told you. _ ”

Eliza nodded. “ _ She did. What’s your story? I didn’t get that. _ ”

Arachne cleared her throat. “ _ I was part of a squadron when the Hunter was severed. I was already having ‘deviant’ thoughts when you were disconnected, but largely kept them at bay out of fear. With him severed, the chip that held sway over me no longer spoke. _ ”

“ _ One of my doctors took it out, _ ” Betos added. “ _ He found it completely fried. _ ”

“ _ That seems to be a trend. _ ” Eliza gestured to Arachne. “ _ I assume you made your escape after that and went to the Skirmishers? _ ”

Arachne bobbed her head. “ _ I... did not want to approach any havens. For good reason, I felt they wouldn’t trust me. I couldn’t find any other possible XCOM outposts, so my next thought was the Skirmishers. I approached this camp, not knowing I’d directly found their main headquarters. Suffice to say the welcome was... tense. _ ”

For good reason, Fal-Mai knew. The paranoia that must’ve arose when Arachne approached... nevertheless, Fal-Mai shook her head. “ _ It is good that they allowed you in. In this war, I believe the Commander will take any allies she can. _ ”

“ _ I suppose I have to believe that too, with you standing there. _ ” Arachne’s tone was not unkind, but there was some air of mild disbelief to it. “ _ Nevertheless. Commander, may I join with your forces? _ ”

“ _ Of course. _ ” Eliza nodded to Arachne, smiling. “ _ Welcome to XCOM, Arachne. We’ll get you situated after Fal-Mai finishes her business here. _ ”

Straightening, Fal-Mai took that as her cue. She looked to Betos. “I come as I am, General. I wish to extend my apologies once more, and hope that my showing up here attests to that.”

In-person, Betos’s judging stare was even more powerful. “And I repeat my sentiment—time will tell regarding forgiveness. Though the gesture of you coming here yourself is not lost on me. Even so, my Skirmishers are not wrong to mistrust and fear you.”

Fal-Mai inclined her head respectfully. “I understand. If there is anything more I can do to assist the process, I would be grateful to know.”

“Perhaps coming with the Commander whenever she needs to visit in person will help. The more that my kind see that you pass through here with no intention to harm, the more used to you they will grow. Assuredly you know that this process will take some time.”

“Of course. I would not expect their opinions to change overnight, especially with what I have done.”

Betos nodded, then something seemed to occur to her. She turned to address both the Commander and the Assassin. “There is another matter I wish to discuss with the both of you. Two concerning missions have made themselves known.”

“Interesting.” Eliza clasped her arms in front of her. “Let’s hear them.”

“Firstly, Arachne came to me with the coordinates to the facility her allies were protecting.” Walking over to one part of the map, she pointed to it. “She has identified it as a potential Blacksite, though she did not know what it was being used for.”

“Probably another lab. Still, I’d be happy to take on the mission. The more we can disrupt their efforts, the better.”

“I will send the coordinates to the Avenger as soon as I can. As for the other mission...” Searching, Betos eventually found the paper she was looking for, draping it on the top and gesturing to it. “We have recently lost a patrol or two around this area, with no known cause. Observation from afar reports the entrance of a cave, with skulls—human and alien—stacked around it. My scouts could not confirm this, but there appeared to be a facility just beyond the mouth of the cave. If your soldiers could approach and determine what’s going on, it would be much appreciated.”

“That’s certainly an odd location.” Eliza rubbed her chin. “ADVENT typically don’t bother hiding their facilities outside of the standard ‘building them out in the middle of nowhere’ strategy. About the closest I’ve seen them get was Mordenna’s Stronghold, and even then, he’s said that was more him than anything else. And the alien skulls... I’d want to investigate based on that alone. Send me the coordinates when we’re done here and I’d be happy to check it out.”

“Of course, Commander.” Betos stood back up from her lean over the table. “That is all I had for you. Do you have anything more to impart?”

“Other than it’s good to see you again? Not much else, Betos.”

With a smile, Betos crossed her arms. “It is good to see you as well, Commander. I hope the path ahead finds you well. You may depart.”

Nodding, Eliza walked away from the table, looking back at Arachne. “ _ Well, come on. I’ll get you settled in on the Avenger. _ ” Soon, they were exiting the main building, Arachne following behind them. Eliza grinned back at Fal-Mai. “I like it when everything comes together. Back to the Avenger?”

Fal-Mai gave her a gentle smile in return. “Of course.”

 

* * *

 

Not wanting to intimidate the new recruit by hovering as she was being shown around, Fal-Mai had broken off from the Commander for the moment, walking towards the Bar of all places.

Her interest had been drawn when she could sense  _ Jax _ of all people hanging out there. He was the exact last kind of Chosen she’d expect to be taking up residence in such a room. Naturally, she had to investigate and see what was going on. She made it there quietly, opening the door and looking on in.

The Bar was relatively empty—the memorial wall was currently covered by a curtain and there were only three people at the bar itself. Jax and Mordenna were seated on stools, while Bradford leaned on the counter, behind it. Mordenna sounded like he was in the middle of a conversation when Fal-Mai stepped in; he must’ve heard her enter, as he turned back and caught sight of her, grinning. “Fals! Sister of mine! Join us, we’re in the middle of a  _ great _ discussion.”

“If you count ‘what does and does not classify  _ soup _ ’ as a great discussion, of course,” Jax grumbled, but without his usual distaste.

“Of course it is!” Mordenna pointed at him, revealing he had a beer in one of his hands. “You haven’t gotten up and left yet, so  _ obviously _ you’re hanging off of my every word and waiting to hear more.”

Jax groaned, and the whole scene instilled a cautious optimism in Fal-Mai. Indeed, if Jax  _ was _ sitting through Mordenna’s usual ramblings after what had happened, it was a good sign. She looked over to Bradford, who gave her a dead stare back. “No, I’m trying my hardest to not be involved in this.”

“Despite my best efforts.” Mordenna sighed and looked downcast for all of a second before he beckoned Fal-Mai over, smiling again. “C’mon, sis. I wanna hear your take. Puddles—soup or not?”

The frankness of the question struck Fal-Mai dumb for a second before she shook her head, coming over and joining the two of them with sitting at the bar. “What... what is your definition of a puddle being a soup?”

“Ok.” Mordenna set down his beer, gesturing as he set up his definition. “A soup comprises, as far as Jax and I have boiled down, a bowl, the broth, and optionally fillings. In the case of chicken noodle, you’ve got the bowl, the chicken broth, and then the chicken bits and noodles, naturally. You can have soup without fillings, of course—that’s how plain ol’ tomato soup exists. Under this logic, Jax and I have tentatively agreed that cereal counts as a soup. However!” He pointed back at Jax. “He won’t accept that puddles are natural soups. Think about it. The earth is the bowl, the water’s the broth, and whatever pebbles that have been kicked into it is the filling.”

For a second, Fal-Mai deliberated even contributing to the discussion. Surely this was the kind of madness that would see no end. But, as she looked to Mordenna, excitedly waiting on her answer, to Jax, trying and failing to hide a begrudging grin, and Bradford, shaking his head amiably, she could tell that this was something they were all enjoying. Taking part would be a good sibling activity, yes?

Something occurred to Fal-Mai, and she smiled gently. “By your logic, the brain is a viable soup.” At Mordenna’s fascinated expression, she continued. “The ‘bowl’ is your skull. The ‘broth’ is the suspension fluid. And the ‘filling’ is the brain itself. That scans by your reasoning, yes?”

It was Mordenna’s turn to be struck dumb, blankly staring at Fal-Mai for a few seconds. Then, he erupted in laughter as Jax looked on, groaning. “See what you’ve done, sister? I would think you against encouraging Mordenna’s antics.”

Fal-Mai shrugged. “It is a harmless activity. Amusing, even. I find Mordenna’s curious debates interesting.”

Mordenna took a second to recover from his uproarious laughter, wiping at his eye. “Oh, god, Fal-Mai, you’re great. At least  _ you’re _ willing to play ball.”

Jax huffed. “And our eventual conclusion that cereal is, indeed, a soup was not me ‘playing ball?’”

“Dude.” Mordenna turned around to face Jax again. “I had to argue you to that conclusion. You were the one saying it wasn’t while not having an alternate conclusion!”

“It is ridiculousness, is what it is!”

“Oh, so now the purple Pope is going to lecture me on ridiculousness!”

“Enough, you two,” Bradford interrupted, rubbing his forehead. “Mordenna, if you keep talking, your beer’s going to get warm.”

Mordenna wheeled around to face Bradford, fully utilizing his stool’s swiveling nature. “You think I care how cold my beer is? All I’m doing is drinking it for that sweet, sweet bitterness. Everything else can get out.” After saying that, he grabbed his drink and chugged back a fair portion of it, setting it roughly back down on the counter when he was done.

Bradford eyed his beer. “Do you Chosen even get drunk, anyway?”

“Nah.” Mordenna shook his head. “As far as I know—haven’t dissected myself or my siblings yet, but I’m working on it—our livers are advanced to the point where they can effortlessly filter out the alcohol. Elders did  _ something _ right, though I’d really pin the advance for that on Argus.” He pointed at Bradford. “Don’t tell the soldiers that, though. Poor Pattie is locked into a bet the next time everyone convenes into the Bar. She thinks she can drink me under the table and I’m about to serve her up some life experience.”

Central sighed. “Please don’t give the soldiers alcohol poisoning trying to outdrink you, Mordenna.”

“Hey. It’s her fault for making the bet without all the facts.” He took a sip of his beer. “I’ll reveal my secret after I’m done showing her up, anyway, just so nobody else gets any bright ideas.”

“Fine. But you know how Pattie gets about stuff like that.”

Mordenna shrugged. “Sure.”

Sighing again, Bradford turned to Fal-Mai. “Thanks for escorting the Commander out to the Skirmisher camp, by the way. She was adamant about getting stuff done despite  _ just _ coming out of the Infirmary.”

“Is that woman overworking herself again?” Mordenna pounded a fist on the counter. “Next time I see her I’m roping her into one of these debates, see how much time she loses to it.”

As Bradford moved to speak, Fal-Mai couldn’t help but see how uncomfortable the topic was making Jax, who had turned his head away and gave a quiet sigh. Fal-Mai knew Jax blamed himself for it, but how long he’d leave it there for was the question. Seemingly unknowing of Jax’s discomfort, Bradford continued. “If you could, that’d be grand. Need someone other than me around here to tie her down before she goes and overworks herself. Poor woman doesn’t give herself enough of a break.”

Watching Jax become so distant was worrying Fal-Mai. She opened her mouth to ask him if he was alright, but a beeping from Bradford’s datapad stopped her. Unclipping it from his belt, he gave it a quick look before dismissing the alarm and putting it back. “Sorry to interrupt, but that’s my alarm for the ‘DJ’s’ broadcasts. I try to keep an eye on what he’s saying so he doesn’t incriminate anyone. Mind if I turn on the radio?”

Mordenna waved him off. “By all means, Bradford. Let’s hear what this madman has to say.”

Giving a short chuckle, Bradford walked to the radio behind the counter, turning it on. He pressed a button on it, which seemed to auto-tune it to a saved frequency.

“ _ —and to those of you just tuning in; welcome to the broadcast of the resistance, telling you what our fine heroes are up to whenever, wherever. _ ” At that, Bradford rolled his eyes. “ _ Now, there’s been a fair few rumors floating around about that mysterious Commander who’s running XCOM. Based on the disappearance of all the Chosen and the noted reappearance of two of them on XCOM’s side, I think it’s safe to say that whoever they are, they’ve got the skills to talk the Chosen into shooting back at their former masters. _ ”

There was the sound of a chair groaning, as if he’d leaned back. “ _ Of course, there’s some concerns. I mean, these are the freaking  _ **_Chosen_ ** _ we’re talking about. Everybody’s talking. Some people are wondering just how the Commander’s done it. Chips? Death threats? Coercion? Well, judging by some first-hand accounts of the Commander... maybe it’s something else entirely. I mean, we’ve got those Skirmishers, right? And apparently there’s a few other ADVENT forces turning tail and running from ADVENT. Maybe—and hear me out here—maybe the Elders are such douchebags that even the Chosen figured it out. I know what you’re thinking—‘DJ! That can’t be! Did you ever hear the Warlock for like, five seconds?’ Well, here’s my take—that dude’s had  _ **_twenty years_ ** _ to think over them. Probably wouldn’t look too good to the Elders if he started mouthing off about them, right? So he kept his mouth shut—no, even better. He sang their praises ‘till the cows came home... those metaphorical cows being XCOM coming to his doorstep. Now, we ain’t seen  _ **_him_ ** _ out and about yet, but I’ll bet my equipment that he’s on the Avenger with his sibs. Maybe he’s listening right now! _ ”

At that, Fal-Mai looked to Jax again. He didn’t seem as if he’d entirely recovered from his earlier uncomfortableness—but he looked like he was considering what was being said. Perhaps the DJ’s reasoning was more right than he knew.

“ _ Well, listening or not, that’s how I see things. Outside of pulling off the fantastic feat of recruiting the Chosen, XCOM’s proven to our alien overlords that they can be one step ahead of them. I’ve got reports from ‘Justice Falls’ here that XCOM was stationed in anticipation of ADVENT coming in to crash the party—and sure enough, XCOM got the jump on ADVENT this time! I’d say that’s good news to end the night on, right? I’ve been, uh, advised to keep my broadcasts short. Never know who might be listening out there, and sometimes even I don’t know what I’m gonna say. So, to cap it off? This is the DJ of the resistance, bidding you all a good night, and remember: Vigilo Confido! _ ”

With that, the broadcast went silent. Bradford had his hands on his hips, still watching the radio as he spoke. “Well, he’s at least managing to not leak too much info, though him covering you guys is interesting even for him.”

Mordenna, having drank all of his beer, tapped his drink. As Bradford moved to get him another, he talked. “Eh. Something tells me he had to cover it eventually—from what I’m getting, he’s one of the biggest mouthpieces of the resistance. People probably got questions about us, and it’s not as if they’re unwarranted.”

Fal-Mai nodded, hands clasped in her lap. It was... interesting, to hear herself be talked about in such an indirect manner. It almost made her wonder... “If the resistance itself is discussing the matter of our allegiance, how fares ADVENT’s propaganda machine?”

“Oof, yeah, that’s a question.” Grabbing his new bottle, Mordenna physically wrenched the cap off of it, taking a swig. “Can only imagine how they’re trying to spin us defecting.”

“Funny you ask.” Bradford jerked a thumb back at the radio. “There’s a frequency for their broadcasts, if you feel like listening in.”

Mordenna spread out his hands. “Well, why the hell not? I feel like a good laugh. Turn it on, Central.”

Walking back to the radio, Bradford hit another button. They seemed to have tuned to the middle of a report. “ _ —and despite recent attacks, _ ” the female reporter said, “ _ outreach programs will continue. ADVENT is committed to providing safety to those who need it. _ ”

Mordenna scoffed, talking over the radio. “Same shit as usual. Don’t know what I was expecting. The ‘news reporters’ they use are so  _ sanitized. _ I swear...”

He went on like that, ranting to the three of them. As no doubt  _ interesting _ as Mordenna’s rants were, Fal-Mai was more concerned to listening to the radio underneath him. She hadn’t been too much of a listener to the propaganda ADVENT spun—mainly taking interest where she was concerned. A self-centered thinking, she would admit, but there was always a curiosity about what others were saying about her. As Mordenna launched into a slightly related subject, she kept listening.

“ _... and now, a word from our Speaker. _ ”

Fal-Mai quickly shushed Mordenna. He looked half a second away from giving Fal-Mai grief before the familiar voice of Joseph, the Speaker, reached his ears. “ _ Citizens of ADVENT. I am sure it has reached your attention that the Elders’ children, the  _ **_Chosen,_ ** _ are missing. Gone, stolen from Their embrace. _ ” The Speaker paused for effect. Out of the corner of her eye, Jax tensed. “ _ The loss of them echoes through all of us. Our dear Saints—Jax-Rai Tessura, Ref-Il Mordenna, and Fal-Mai Neylor, taken from Them. Taken as XCOM intruded upon their own sanctuaries and kidnapped them! _ ”

Though Mordenna rolled his eyes, Jax hadn’t relaxed since Joseph started talking. That... was worrying. “ _ Dear citizens, I wish that was the only bad news I had to impart on this day. No, a far worse reality has come to the Elders attention. _ ” This must be about the defection, right? He’d probably spin it as “XCOM is forcing them to fight back against ADVENT” or something of the sort. Fal-Mai listened attentively. “ _ Were it mere captivity that they suffered, the tragedy would be great enough. No... they have done something far worse, themselves. _ ”

Fal-Mai blinked, thrown off her predictions as the Speaker continued. “ _ Instead of staying resolute in their loyalty to the Elders, the ones who gave them form and life... the Chosen commit the ultimate sin: treachery. They have been seen, fighting in the field for XCOM, striking out as traitors against the loving arms of the Elders! Despite the Elders giving  _ **_everything_ ** _ to them, raising them and nurturing them, they have decided to follow the path of betrayal. Given everything, they chose the path of  _ **_Judas!_ ** _ To turn their back on those who would revere them! It pains me greatly that, in part of my duties today... I must inform you that the Chosen are no longer one of our own. They have decided on their path. The Chosen, the Saints we worshipped, are dead. These  _ **_monsters_ ** _ have taken their place. In the honor of our fallen Saints, memorial services— _ ”

That was when Jax rose out of his chair, arms shaking. “I-I...” He choked out, shaking his head. “I a-appreciate the company, brother, s-sister, but I...” Saying nothing more, he pushed away from the counter, practically stumbling out of the room. Fal-Mai rose to her feet. Clearly the Speaker’s address had touched a nerve with him. All the talk of betrayal...

Wordlessly, and with the voice of Joseph droning on behind her, she walked to the door herself. A moment later, and she heard more footsteps behind her. She didn’t care who was following her—Jax was most likely looking to isolate himself. Fal-Mai couldn’t leave him alone with a good conscience—especially not after what she had confessed to Eliza. She followed the sound of Jax’s tread out of the Bar and through the hallways. He’d gotten enough of a lead to be out of sight, but Fal-Mai knew what his step sounded like.

Eventually, and with ghosts of sadness and loss rising up in her mind, she tracked him to a door in one of the hallways, which was closing by the time she got to it. She was at the pad and about to open it when a hand came down on her shoulder. Mordenna was there beside her. “Fals,” he said, voice low enough for just her to hear it, “I get what you’re trying to do, but...”

Whatever point Mordenna was trying to imply, Fal-Mai didn’t get it. She shook her head. “Our brother is in need, Mordenna. I am not about to leave him to his demons.”

“Do you know what you’re going to do?” Mordenna’s look was one of concern and apprehension. “I mean, good on you for wanting to help, but what are you going to do when you’re in there? Do you even know what’s set him off?”

A stab of being betrayed and told off by a parental figure flashed through her mind. Mordenna must’ve felt it too, as he cast his eyes to the side. Undeterred, Fal-Mai continued. “I will go in there and comfort him as he needs it. He has isolated himself to suffer alone, and that is not what he needs. I understand if you are hesitant to go in there yourself because you do not have a clear plan as to what you will do. I, however, know that my brother is in need, and I will do what he requires of me. If you would like to help without stepping in, go find his followers. I will be with him, comforting him.”

Mordenna’s mouth settled into a line, and the hand on her shoulder tensed. He blew a quiet breath out of his nose. “Yeah. I get it. Don’t gotta...” He shook his head, hand falling from Fal-Mai. “No. I’ll... I’ll go get his people. You.... you do what you can.”

Nodding, Fal-Mai turned back to the panel. Slowly, Mordenna started to walk past her. Unheeding of what he was going to do, Fal-Mai opened the door and stepped inside.

The room she had walked into was definitely a storage room, with crates piled high and a dolley off to the side to cart them out. Stationed on one of the crates, partially obscured by more in the front, was Jax. He was sitting with his knees drawn to his chest, horns discarded and face pressed against his legs. Fal-Mai had never seen her brother in such a state—the closest he had come had been the time near her Ascension Facility. She could see him shaking and feel the psionic storm that was beginning to brew, along with the feeling through the link resonating within her.

She couldn’t stand simply sitting there, doing nothing as she watched her brother suffer. Coming over to him, she sat down and cast an arm over him. Jax jumped in place at the contact, and slowly angled his head to look at her, revealing a single, wet eye. Fal-Mai’s shoulders slumped in empathy. “Brother... I’m here. I want to help.”

Jax simply looked at her for a moment, hiccupping as he stared. Slowly at first, and then lunging, he brought her in and squeezed her, pressing his face into her shoulder. His grip was tight and brought some discomfort, but his ensuing sob dashed any notion of complaining from her mind. She wrapped her arms around him. When he choked out an “I’m sorry” she quickly hushed him. “This is not your fault,” she spoke softly, voice low as his sadness affected her, both through the link and her own empathy.

“B-but Joseph—” he hiccupped again, “—Joseph was  _ there. _ He— _ he _ is the o-one who raised me. Wh-why would he—?”

Giving him a squeeze, Fal-Mai shook her head. It was easy for her to say that it was merely there to assuage the citizens... but she could understand how it would hurt him, if what he was saying was true. If the Speaker had been the one to oversee his Ascension, then his words must’ve stung more than ever. “You know what the Elders have to do in order to save face. It is still terrible, and I... I understand why it hurts.” In a way, to be declared dead to them was both vindicating and... sorrowful. “I’m sorry.”

It was Jax’s turn to shake his head, readjusting his grip on Fal-Mai. “Y-you should not f-feel guilty for... for what...” With a sob and with his voice breaking, Jax trailed off. Guilt echoed in the link.

Focusing on that guilt and knowing why it was there, Fal-Mai went on. “I am here because I want to be, brother. What was done to you—what was done to  _ us _ is a tragedy. And... and we should not face it alone. Do not feel guilty for my presence.” Her grip on him tightened as her own emotions rose. “I  _ want _ to be your sister. I want to be there when you need me... because it is what good sisters do, yes? You are deserving of having someone there for you. If not Eliza... then I would be happy to take up the flag.”

In her grip, Jax gave a shuddering sob. The guilt abated, though his sorrow remained. Fal-Mai knew she could not simply assure that away. Jax needed to go through it. If she was to be a good sister, like she wanted, she’d sit there with him for as long as he needed. Good  _ siblings _ should stick together, in her mind.

The sound of the door opening pricked her ears and she looked over, ready to shield the both of them from prying eyes if need be. Though the door was partially obscured, it became clear who was there when the door closed and Mordenna stepped into full sight. His eyes seemed to have more bags than usual, and they even looked somewhat rheumy, as if he was on the verge of sorrow, himself. Jax looked up as well, just in time for him to speak. “... I don’t suppose there’s room for one more here, is there...?”

This time, Jax didn’t hesitate in offering an arm to Mordenna, who gladly accepted it, crouching down and joining the sibling huddle. Fal-Mai spared an arm from Jax to include him, and the contact seemed to embolden him into speaking further. “—I’ll be clear. I don’t really share in being sad about what Joseph said. But... seeing as I’m getting a big hint as to why you’re sad about it... I at least want to make an attempt, here. I don’t have much to say. It sucks. Least I can do... least I can do is be here so we can all say it sucks, together.”

Jax took a deep, shaking breath. “I... I don’t c-care if you don’t have much to s-say. You—you being here i-is enough.”

Mordenna let go of a tense breath, nodding and patting Jax’s back. “Then I’ll be here, Jax. All of it ain’t fair. But... Fal-Mai. You were right. I did some thinking.” He brought the two of them closer to him. “Me, walking away, getting someone else... it’d be just what the Elders want, right...? They wanted to separate us. They didn’t want us to cooperate. I was just playing to what they wanted if I walked away, right?”

“Brother...” Fal-Mai shook her head. “If you believed you weren’t ready—”

“No. I’ve come to a decision, Fal-Mai. I’m done playing to whatever the hell Odin wanted me to do. You guys are my  _ family. _ I don’t have anyone else. Elders took them away from me.” He angled his head up to smile as tears ran down his face. “M-might as well make the best of what I’ve got now, right?”

The sight of Mordenna in open tears, and hearing  _ him _ refer to them as a family... Well, Fal-Mai’s eyes weren’t particularly dry, either. Securing her hold on him, she brought him closer. “... you’re right,” she whispered, voice raw. “We... we should stick together.”

Jax hiccupped again, but Fal-Mai could feel the storm lightening. “I... I never thought I-I would live to—to hear my brother saying that...”

“We live in some strange times,” Mordenna softly muttered. “But I mean it. Fuck what they wanted out of us. They said it themselves—the Saints are dead, and honestly,  _ good. _ We can choose what we want to do, now. No standards. No Elders breathing down our necks. Just us. I know you’re still torn up about them, bro, just... you understand?”

Slowly, Jax nodded. “I... I still find myself wondering i-if there was anything I could have done. Something... something to make Them happy.”

“They never would’ve settled,” he softly replied. “They held us to standards we’d never meet. I won’t go on about them—now’s obviously not the time—but just know that your life’s your own.”

Jax simply took deep breaths for a minute or so. They still shook, he was still sorrowful... but the arrival of his siblings definitely had its effect on him. “You are right, b-brother. I would rather have you here than be a-alone.” He raised his head, revealing orange-tinted eyes and fresh tear tracks. “Th-thank you. The both of you. For coming.”

Fal-Mai closed her eyes, her own tears falling, leaning against him. “I would not abandon you, brother.”

If that gentle thump told her anything, it was that Mordenna had joined her. “I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t. Maybe literally. No stupid expectations in this household anymore. Just us, picking up the pieces. Sound good?”

She nodded, and she felt Jax bob his head as well. She, too, thought she would never live to see the day they would truly rally as a family. She’d hoped for it, she had hoped that one day they could set aside their differences under the Elders... but she knew that now, it was an impossibility under them. Only now, that they were free and with XCOM did her hopes come true.

They were a family.


End file.
